


Survival Tips

by Smarterinabsentia



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Complete, F/F, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 76
Words: 104,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smarterinabsentia/pseuds/Smarterinabsentia
Summary: Raw and adrift after her break up with Alex, Maggie Sawyer is summoned to Nebraska for a surprising reason. J'onn J'onzz sends Alex Danvers to Metropolis to help Clark and Lois investigate a ring of alien weapons smugglers who may have obtained Kryptonite. Meanwhile, assigned to do a puff piece on Lena Luthor’s close associate Alistair Tierney at Skyhook Tech, Kara Danvers finds herself suspicious of Tierney and conflicted about her friendship with Lena. A post "Earth X" story, mostly canon, but veering from Reign, while incorporating other elements from the DC Comics universe and many attempts to answer those frustrating inconsistencies on the show. Most of these characters aren't mine.





	1. To start with...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maggie Sawyer tries to step forward and ends up taking a giant step back.

The shock from the call was still settling inside Maggie Sawyer, causing her throat to tighten as she drove down the I-80. It was going on three am, and she hadn't been able get a flight earlier than tomorrow night. It was the thick of the Holiday season, funny how her awareness of that had dropped off the second she'd lost some semblance of a family in National City. Now, she was hurtling down the freeway toward the broken remnants of her 'real' one, a bad scene on both counts. But driving was better, the best way to keep her mind off where she was going and where she had been. 

A little over four hours ago, Maggie was backed up against a broken-down cigarette machine in Wall-E's, an alien dive bar ten miles outside of National City. She'd avoided her local haunts because at one month and counting, it was still too early for her to venture back to Dolly's. She and Alex had exchanged a few texts, a single phone call about forwarding mail, and another to pass on a tip about a Zakkarian weapons smuggler, which had gotten nasty. Alex had gone as far to intimate that Maggie was withholding information out of spite rather than professionalism. 

"I'm just trying to do my job, Maggie," Alex had said. "You want to play head games or do you want to catch some Zakkarians?"

"I think you're playing those games with yourself," Maggie said.

She doubted she could stand to see Alex up close, certainly not hogging up the bar stool in their old haunt. That would sting.

On that particular night, however, Margarita Elena Sawyer had gotten lonely, a loneliness that felt different from the kind that sent her licking her wounds alone in a half-furnished apartment with a bottle of 17-year-old Hakushu. MacCallan’s was Alex's now, its bite too personal, so Maggie extended her love of Japanese bonsai and cop dramas to the taste of the country's whiskey.  


Booze wasn’t going to be enough at this point, even if it seemed that way sometimes for Alex. For as hard as she was, Maggie Sawyer needed the warmth and connection of another’s touch. Sure, there had been Rita, who held her that first night after she'd left the warm firelight of Alex's apartment to crash on her sofa. And Dan Turpin had been there to give her an awkward hug and a gruff heart-to-heart out of sight of her squad. That first week had been as hard on the NCPD as it was on her, and it wouldn't have done Stemple or Harding or Kwan any good to see Detective Maggie Sawyer break down in tears during an interrogation. But Turpin knew her well enough, had known about her personal foibles since Metropolis, after he'd bumbled up to the rooftop apartment she shared with Emily all those years ago--with a bouquet of roses.

"You looked like you were going to propose,” Maggie said, teasingly. 

Turpin just blushed. “Get over yourself, Sawyer. You think I'd marry a woman who roots for the Minnesota Twins?"

After that awkward visit, Dan Turpin was the first one she'd been out to on the force, back when Metropolis still lacked employment protection for LGBT employees. And even if Maggie had never considered hiding, he'd respected her privacy, steering clear of the rude talk heard around the station. And he was still there for her now, coming in from Metropolis to help her with a Trommite alchemy bust, right when she felt her break up with Alex might not make her the most stable, level-headed investigator. 

But mostly, it was her, alone in that cold bed that she used to think was Spartan enough for her tastes until she got used to sleeping with someone else. Someone she thought would sleep next to forever. And tonight, she'd driven the thirty miles outside of National City to a rural farm belt called Tabor's Mill, where an influx of alien migrants worked 'round the clock, immune from the chemicals that would harm most human beings. She'd taken a seat at the bar, and been immediately ID'd as a cop. 

"I don't care what you're doing here," she'd muttered, "I just need a drink."

The Trommite hadn't taken that at face value. They didn’t trust easily after the genocide that had taken place on their world. With the restrictive alien laws, Trommite alchemical ability was considered dangerous to both religious conservatives and paranoid legislators, resulting in many of alien refugees doing exactly what the fear mongers said they would: synthesize illegal drugs and powerful explosives. 

She turned back and shoved the curly haired alien against the wall. "Look, I could tell you about your connections with the Rhshzitchey drug rings." 

The alien recoiled in shock at her perfect pronunciation, but she didn't give him time to say much. 

"And I know all about your little dealings with Vrill Dox. I could have twenty squad cars down here in five minutes. But what I really want..." She took the drink from the Trommite's hand, sniffed it and made a face. "Is a drink and some time to myself. Bar goals. Drunk goals. Can we do that?"

The Trommite backed off with a sneer, watching warily as Maggie downed his drink and stalked off to do her business in peace. After she came out of the bathroom, she saw a woman standing in the hallway like she'd been waiting for her. Maggie was drunk by this time. The Trommite's booze was stronger than she'd estimated, but still, she ignored the woman, sidling past her until she pressed a hand against the wall and laughed.

 _Who are you saving yourself for anyway?_ she thought. She opened her eyes and turned around to face the woman, who smiled invitingly. 

"You're new here," the alien said. "Don't mind Rex. No one does. He wants to feel important."

"Yeah?" Maggie said. "Good to know." She leaned against the wall, closing the woman between herself and the cigarette machine. _This is stupid_ , she thought. She was throwing herself into a possibly dangerous situation. Not moving on, but just reacting to the all too level tone Alex had used on her during their last exchange.

"Yeah," the woman said, pulling Maggie from her ruminations. "My name's--"

Maggie pulled the alien to her and smiled as the woman tilted her head up invitingly. The smile disappeared. _Stupid _, she thought. But maybe, she needed this. Maggie bent to kiss the other woman, found her lips soft and inviting enough, but she felt nothing, like she was trying to kick some semblance of her old, pre-Danvers self back to life. Maggie pulled back. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"__

____

____

The alien leaned up again and smiled. "That was nice." She pulled Maggie close and kissed her more enthusiastically this time and Maggie was already backing toward the wall, thinking of excuses. One came from the vibration in her pocket. 

"Just a sec," she said, breathless and relieved. She held up her hand to the other woman and answered the phone. 

"Sawyer."

On the other end was a child's voice.

"This Maggie?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"It's Jaime."

Her mind was foggy from the contact and the alcohol, and it took her a second to place her. Jaime. Her aunt Luisa's kid. How long had it been? Two, maybe three years? 

She was about to speak, but the voice broke on the other end. 

"Mom's dead. Can you come?"


	2. Howling Phantods are Real and so are Alex’s Ghosts

"We didn't...need that punching bag."

Alex Danvers whipped around in the sparring gym, biting her lip as she spotted Agent Susan Vasquez staring at her with a mix of amusement and fear.

"Ow,” Alex whispered, reaching up to feel a pellet of blood on her lip. “Did you need something, Agent?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Director J'onzz would like to see you...” Vasquez backed up the second that word slipped out of her mouth. It wasn't a Mrs or Miss, but it sure as hell didn't sound married. She hadn't meant to say any of it, but she'd just spent three weeks sequestered away at the DEO's desert launchpad facility, where the crusty Colonel Marla Sims, an ex member of the Mercury 13, was a stickler for 60s era etiquette. 

Alex glared just as the bag, still swinging from her earlier punch, fell back, swiping her in the shoulder. She stumbled forward and spun back, giving it another punch out of spite.

"Not Ma'am, agent.”

"Director Danvers, " Vasquez corrected herself, squeezing her eyes shut in self-reproach. “I’m sorry.” She glanced up to see that Alex Danvers was no longer glaring, but instead regarding her with wry amusement.

"That's Ms. Director to you," Alex said. The older agent felt a brief lift in her confidence when she saw the woman color. She knew Vasquez had a crush on her, even before she realized her own sexuality. She'd caught those large, expressive eyes traveling over her during debriefings and strategy sessions, caught the nervous deference in the younger woman’s voice. She found it flattering, but had never really considered her romantically, although now that the thought was passing through her, she knew it wouldn't slip away completely.  "Thanks," she said. "Urgent?"

Vasquez nodded, afraid to address her the wrong way again, and felt her body tense as Alex clapped as sweaty hand on her shoulder.

"Lead the way."

J'onn, Kara, and Winn had gathered around the monitor board, staring at a string of blips radiating from a map. Kara glanced up at her sister and managed a smile.

"You look like you took out a rabid bear—or two," she said.

Alex smiled a little uncertainly. "Maybe hibernation season is over?" Kara smiled at the double meaning. Since her sister’s break up with Maggie, despite a brief dalliance at Barry's wedding, Alex had gone right back in to workaholic mode. This brief show of humor was a hopeful sign that she, unlike Kara, wasn't going to keep her life in the deep freeze for much longer.

J'onn waved Alex over and said, "That's good to hear, Agent Danvers because I've got a job for you. One that's going to require you to get out of the DEO cave for a while."

He pointed to the green blip on the screen and the five of them watched as travelled over the map, linking with several points across the United States, a chain from Metropolis, to the Midwest, and on to National City.

"What is it?" Alex asked.

"The Zakkarians are active again," J'onn said. "Our agents found several safe houses along this route."

"Safe houses," Alex asked. "I didn't know we went after undocumented aliens."

"We don't," said J'onn. "These were a cover. When we uncovered the last Zakkarian smuggling ring, they hooked up with a more benevolent camouflage in the hopes that we'd steer clear. Thing is, this isn't an underground railroad unless you're worried about asylum status for Flackblasters and Rimbor manufactured Meshbombs."

Alex's eyes widened in appreciation. The last time the DEO got hold of a Flackblaster, they managed to wipe an entire natural monument from existence. That had been very hard to explain to the group of mountain bikers who'd come to pop wheelies off of Devil's Bump.

"And not only that, we're talking howling phantods," said Winn. "And here I thought they were the sick product of a certain post-modernist's mind."

"I happen to like David Foster Wallace," Alex said flatly.

"Then, Ms. I-like-overly-long-pretentious-books," Winn said, typing intently into his laptop. "You'll be happy to know..." an image of a hole ridden corpse, the eyes gone and the mouth open in shock, appeared on an overheard monitor, "that the phantods are real."

"What do they do?" asked Kara.

"From what I've researched, they're like mini phantom zone projectors with laser like focus. They might not send all of you into the zone, but they'll disappear holes from you. Same effect as a bullet hole and much less easy to patch."

"Gross," Alex said. "So, General Zod occasionally gets meatball deliveries."

"Now who’s being gross?" said Kara.

"I'm glad to see that Agent Danvers is showing a lighter side this afternoon," said J'onn, "but this isn't the time or the place to flippant. We've found traces of Kryptonite in the Midwest safe house. Faint, but nonetheless, that doesn't bode well. Clark is very concerned about this, naturally. We need someone to go to Metropolis and work with him and the JLA, to find the supplier and put a stop to it. We don't do that and our alien population is going to have even worse problems on their hands, from Cadmus and the government." He turned to Alex and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'd like that agent to be you, Alex."

Alex took a step back, felt herself break out into a new sweat. "Me?"

"Clark is worried about this," J'onn said. "He needs someone with DEO expertise to help him track down the main supplier and their contacts offworld. Get the smugglers before whomever they're selling it to is able to use it against either him or Kara, not to mention millions of innocent people. You’re well versed in the use of Kryptonite weaponry. It’s got to be you.”

Alex looked at her sister and a sharp pang of guilt shot through her over Astra's death. Kara, however, only smiled at her, showed her that same warmth and unquestioning forgiveness. She'd was leaving for Metropolis then. She remembered the time Kara threatened to move there, and how empty she had felt at the prospect. Now she was empty for another reason, and with Maggie gone, after she and Kara had reestablished their bond over the loss of their partners, she was going to lose her again.

"Alex," Kara said, slipping an arm through hers. She pulled her away from J'onn and the others. "This is going to be new and hard, but right now everything is." Then she looked into Alex's eyes and said, "You and I? We're going to be okay."


	3. From a Finger to a Fist

Maggie had pulled into Dan Waters' office as soon as she'd rolled into town. Jaime had stayed the night with her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Elsterberg, who was taking care of her while Waters explained the situation.

He opened the door for her, and without bothering to offer a hand, gestured to a seat on the other side of a neatly arranged desk. 

"You'd better have some coffee," Maggie said.

Waters, a tall man, with thinning red hair smiled loosely. He pointed to a paper bag with the logo from a local doughnut shop—one of the few locally owned business in the town. "Of course. You've been driving all night. Sit down."

Maggie did so, fighting off the urge to yawn as Waters plunked a Styrofoam cup in front of her. She lifted herself out of the soft leather seat and took it, wincing as some of the liquid spotted and stung her hand. It was still too hot to drink. "Thanks," she said.

Waters took the seat opposite of her and pulled a cruller out of the bag, offering it to her. She shook her head.

"Don't eat that stuff, but the coffee's good. Thanks. Can you tell me what's going on? I'm glad you called me first, but what about her grandparents. My parents? Has anyone else been informed yet?"

Waters took a deep breath and blew it out. "Your aunt Luisa had been suffering from a heart condition. She tell you?”

"No," Maggie said. "I knew she had some health problems, but..."

He nodded. "She didn't tell you because she didn't want anyone to know. Not until she had things ironed out."

Maggie squinted, confused and tired. "About what?"

Waters folded his hands. "She wanted to make arrangements without anyone else getting involved, Detective Sawyer."

"Maggie."

"As she told it to me, several times I might add. If her brother, your father, had known, if Ben Sawyer's parents had known, they'd start making custody demands for Jaime."

Maggie shrugged. "Yeah, and?"

Waters looked away. "Luisa has elected for you to take care of Jaime in the event of her death."

Maggie closed her eyes, felt a sharp pain shoot through her temples. "Wait...wait?"

Waters sighed, picked up the cruller and looked at it, before putting it back down. This was going to be a long morning. "Luisa didn't want Jaime to be raised by Mr. Rodas, not after what happened to you. She didn't feel they'd be good parents to her. And Ben Sawyer's parents are too old, already in assisted living. She thought if anyone could see to it that Jaime was raised properly," he lifted his arm, held up two fingers in a gesture that reminded her of Alex, "It was you."

With that Waters looked into her eyes, his expression serious. He was examining her. 

Maggie shook her head. She hadn't even had time to grieve, much less process this. "Me? Look, I don't know how this came about. I'm a cop, work twelve-hour days. Order in most nights. Drink a finger of scotch a night that has grown into a whole hand over the last few months. Not the best environment for a nine-year-old kid." She let out a dry laugh and slumped her head into her hands. "I'm here for Jaime. That's not a question, but I can't. This isn't..." 

"Feasible?" Waters said. "She said you'd say that."

She sat up, picked up the coffee, hoping it would focus her, and took a sip. It was surprisingly bitter. The way she liked it and an apt comment on this turn of events.

Waters smiled slowly, his expression a little sad, and picked up the cruller again. "Detective Sawyer. Maggie. Listen, you haven't slept. I suggest you do that. Then see Jaime. None of this is binding, of course, but from your own experience, from what Luisa has told me, I do hope you'll consider it."


	4. Margot Channing Toasts Metropolis

Langford airport was a smaller facility a few miles outside of Metropolis. Used by military, government workers, and business people with special clearance, it wasn’t a place that, even during the holiday season, would be crowded at 7am. Alex, however, hadn’t expected it to be flat out empty. When she disembarked from the plane, a handful of red eye passengers blearily stumbling behind her, she was met with a vacant terminal gate and a bright orange carpet that likely hadn’t been replaced since 1974. The sound of her fellow passengers’ cellphones, all trilling in time with the one in her pocket, told her this wasn’t ordinary.

“Alex?” It was a woman’s voice, calm, confident, and sharply familiar. “I've been trying to get though. Out front. West exit. This whole half of Metropolis is on lockdown.”

“Lucy?”

There was a brief pause and a chuckle. “You got the family right. Luce sends her love.”

Alex’s mouth opened as she made the connection. “Oh...Lois. Of course. You didn’t have to. I could have—“

“You know, you sound just like Clark when we first met. Don’t worry about it. You got any bags?”

“No,” Alex said, turning down the narrow corridor toward the arrivals lobby. “Just a carry on. I pack light.”

Around her, the other passengers were shouting into their phones, faces red, their hands running nervously through hair and over rumpled suits. She heard the words 'attack, fireballs, aliens' and said, "You sound surprisingly calm.”

Lois laughed. “I’ll explain in the car,” she said. “You’ll have to sneak past security. They’re trying to keep everyone inside, but I’d bet there aren’t many of them to begin with.”

“On it,” Alex said. 

She headed out toward the pick up area and saw that Lois was right. A huddle of exhausted passengers was arguing vociferously with a lone, uniformed man near the taxi stand. He was haggard, holding his arms out, as if to block them all from charging the revolving door. “There ain’t no taxis anyway!” he kept yelling. “Alien attack. You do know what that means, don't ya? Ain’t no Uber either unless you're looking for a ride on a comet.”At the other end of the Arrivals terminal, a lone Hertz rent-a-car agent sat blinking out from behind the fortified glass window as a smaller group of passengers glared at him from the other side.

Alex took the opportunity to duck into the restroom where she found the window easy enough to jimmy open. She hurled her bag through first, and as she dropped to the pavement, she was nearly slammed by an armored jeep. An attractive woman with dark hair and darker glasses leaned out.

“Alex,” she grinned.

“Lois!” Alex said. “Hey! It’s been a while.”

In the seat behind Lois, a small figure with round eyes peered up at her. Jonathan Lane Kent was six-years-old now. Alex hadn’t seen him since he was two, when she and Kara stopped by the Kent farm during a road trip. Lois and Clark had been taking a break from the city, so he could repair the old homestead and Lois could work on her book. It was a good place for Jon to spend his early years: clean air and lots of space to break things. They weren’t certain then about how the boy's powers might manifest, or how his half Kryptonian biology would adapt to earth’s climate. 

An explosion rang out from somewhere behind them.

“Get in,” Lois said. “And you’d better fasten your seatbelt. It’s going to be a bumpy...morning on the Metropolis 1-10 Freeway.”

Alex laughed at the reference to _All About Eve_. It was one of Kara’s favorite movies. Just a mere ten months ago, Maggie had gotten pretty exasperated on movie night when Kara had to pause it to explain all the best lines to Mon-El. There were a lot of best lines. 

“It was long enough to begin with,” Maggie had practically snarled in the kitchen when they went to refill their drinks. Just then, Mon-El had bounded in behind them, holding his arm out in a sweeping gesture as he opened the refrigerator.

“You’re maudlin and full of self-pity,” he said to Maggie.

Maggie exhaled, about to say something cutting as a panicked Alex downed half the glass of Merlot she was holding. Mon-El dipped slightly in a bow and finished the line.

“You’re magnanimous!”

”Awwww,” Alex smiled, relieved to see Maggie relax. "But I think the line is 'magnificent.'"

As the two women turned toward the living room, Maggie whispered, “Next time, it’s Kurosawa or I’m staying home.”

Alex hadn't been sure that that was a good idea. The prince of Daxam was insufferable enough after _Eve_ , waltzing around the DEO spouting lines like National City’s very own Addison Dewitt. If Mon-El started aping samurai, the DEO could have a citywide emergency on its hands. 

Alex hopped the back, forcing the smaller passenger to scoot over. As the lock snapped closed, shields snapped down over the doors and the windows. 

“A gift from my Dad,” Lois said in explanation. “You know him. Wants to make sure we Lane women can protect ourselves.”

“I do,” said Alex, mostly remembering Sam Lane’s bull-in-a-china-shop approach to the DEO. He did care about his family; at least she could give him that.

Alex turned to the little boy sitting next to her. He was the spitting image of Clark with a little bit of Lois’s brusque slyness mixed in. When he frowned up at her in confusion, a tiny krinkle appeared in his brow. It reminded her so much of Kara.

“Manners, Jonathan,” Lois said. 

“I’m Jon.” The boy held out his hand and Alex took it, wincing as he clamped down hard on her fingers. “You don’t look like cousin Kara,” the boy said.

“No,” Alex said,“Ah...I sure don—.”

“Jonathan,” Lois said. “What’d I say about powers?”

“Dad says it’s important to have a firm handshake,” the boy said.

“Which for you means the setting is 'limp washcloth.'”

Alex forced a smile as the boy pulled his hand away. “Sorry,” he said to her.

“No worries," she said. "I got _pretty_ used to it growing up with your cousin.”

The boy grinned. “Yeah? Kara's strong, isn’t she?”

“Yep,” Alex said, feeling herself lighten despite the fact that Lois had now shifted into third gear and nearly slammed into a dumpster as they turned down a side street.

“It’s Go to Work with Mommy Day today,” Lois said, once again swerving out of the path a squad car. “Poor kid. Not only did he have to get up an hour and a half early, but now we’ve got _this_ to deal with.” She glanced back at her for a little longer than Alex was comfortable with, “Poor you. Bet you didn’t expect this.”

“I'm okay. What is all this anyway?” That remark excluded Lois’s driving. She was still looking at Alex with concern rather than the road. 

“Ah... Lois?” Alex said. 

Lois looked back just in time to veer out of the way of an oncoming truck. “I should explain," she said archly. "This is mostly not real.”

“Pardon?”

“When that imp Mr. Mxyzptlk, paid us a visit last month, he left behind a few goodies with some interdimensional hackers. They’ve projected an illusion over our reality so to speak, kind of like a bubble of magical interactive gaming software taking up actual real estate. Clark and the JLA are patching things up and things’ll go back to normal in a few hours. But in the meantime, just another day in Metropolis, right?”

“Right,” Alex said. 

“You hungry?”

Alex hadn’t taken up the offer of a dry salami sandwich and foul coffee on her flight. She felt her stomach growl. “Yeah. Actually. I could eat knowing that the world isn’t collapsing.”

“Great,” Lois said as they cleared the Bethnall bridge. “Our side of the bay isn’t affected by this. Bet the food carts are open for business.

“Yayyy!” Jon said, “can we get the death sauce burritos?”

“ _You_ can,” Lois said. “Some of us don’t have invulnerable taste buds.”

Her cell phone rang and Lois picked it up. “Lane. Yes, yes. What’s that?” She pulled to a stop at a light, took out a pad and pencil. Old school, Alex thought. 

“Forty first and Kearney. Five pm. I’ll be there. Bye.”

Alex grinned down at the boy. “Death sauce. Now you’re speaking my language,” she said. Jon raised his fist and when Alex bumped it, he was extra careful to be gentle. Just like Kara, she thought. She looked up and thought she saw the flicker of a yellow cape shoot across the skyline above. Just another day in Metropolis, indeed. Maybe the change of scenery would be good for her after all.


	5. Coming Home?

That morning, after leaving Waters' office, Maggie dreamt for the first time in weeks. Her slumber wasn’t clouded with alcohol or a work-related sleep deficit so great her nights were more blackout and rest.  
What she dreamt of though was her father. He didn't look like Oscar. Phantoms never looked as they should, not the worst ones. Instead, Oscar Rodas resembled the Scarecrow of Gotham or one of the more desperate aliens, brought low by hard luck and a nonhuman appearance. But it was her father, slumped in the cellar of Luisa's old one story house. He was covered in rags, his face mostly in shadow, eyes cold and dead like a shark's. The voice, however, was unmistakable.

“Margarita,” he said in that same befuddled, half-exasperated tone. He gestured for her to come closer, lifting his tattered shirt to reveal a dark, oozing maw in his gut. “I worked hard. For you. And you give me this...”

Maggie swallowed and backed away as he pressed a gnarled thumb down on the wound. A thick ooze spurted out and an acrid smell hit her nostrils. "I did this for you, Margarita. To fit in. To be human. And you repay me how? By becoming a monster."

Maggie jolted up in bed, her body soaked in sweat, her fingers wound in the cheap, frayed bedspread of the Travel Inn. A shifting ray of sunlight stabbed its way through the crooked blinds into her eyes. What time was it? She was supposed to meet Jaime at the school at four, but first Waters had given her the keys to Luisa’s apartment. If she was going to bring the girl back home—she certainly wasn’t going to bring her here-- she needed to vet the place first, make sure there weren't any signs of what had happened to her mother. She didn’t want to traumatize the kid. Although from what Elsterberg had told her over the phone, Jaime was treating the situation with the kind of stoicism Maggie excelled at: attending school, insisting on going to little league practice. It had made Maggie's side of things easier, but she wasn't sure this was something she should cheer.

Jaime’s mother, Maggie’s aunt Luisa, was dead. 

Luisa Rodas Sawyer had moved to Blue Springs in 1980. She'd married Ben Hubbard Sawyer in 1990. Sawyer was firefighter, retired early on a bad lung and a decent disability check. He was kind and loved baseball as much as she did, so she packed up and moved to Halterville when she was twenty-eight. Ben passed away just two months after Luisa had their first, and last, child. Jaime was one of those late-in-life surprises. A miracle, Oscar had called it. She remembered Ben grumbling about his brother-in-law’s comment in the hospital. "It's called hard work and medical progress," he said. "Miracles are for lazy moralists."  
Ben and Luisa had wanted a child for so long. They'd tried so hard, and when Oscar had dumped her off on their doorstep that night, ranting about ‘nature’ and ‘shame,’ they thought that maybe this was it. They could take in that hard-headed, reticent fourteen-year-old as their own. Ben even took the steps to legally adopt Maggie until Oscar threatened to fight him in court. Instead, Maggie opted for emancipation at seventeen, and to make it clearer, she was more than happy to take Ben and Luisa’s last name, erasing that past and the parents who had long before erased her. Jaime came along after Maggie had graduated college and was a year into the police academy. She liked the kid, loved her even, but she'd never really spent much time with her. Time to visit home had been harder to come by, and it was easier for Maggie to forget, pretend there weren't really places in the world, or people, who'd throw you out on the street for sending the wrong kind of Valentines card. But they'd stayed in touch and Luisa had been so happy to hear about the wedding, was so looking forward to visiting National City. Now she never would. 

 

After Ben died, Luisa had moved into a second floor duplex on Carver street. It was within walking distance of Halterville’s meager downtown. When Maggie lived there, the downtown had consisted of a dry cleaners, a tax office, and a rundown movie theater with a sagging marquis. Now the tax office was boarded up and a fast food joint, advertising Soder Cola had taken the place of Rudy’s Autoshop.

She got out of her car, briefly appraising the cracks on the window from the long drive, and made her way up the steps of the apartment. She put the key in the lock, closing her eyes as she turned the knob and pushed open the door, then steeled herself as she glanced around. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The place still smelled of citrus and scented candles, with a few spices from the kitchen thrown in. What had she expected? The outline of a body? Signs of a struggle? Luisa had simply called an ambulance and died en route to Providence general. There wasn't a crime to uncover here. It was just as Luisa always had it: neat, the furniture dusted, everything in order, except, Maggie noted, a ring of dried milk around a glass on the coffee table. Luisa must have spilled it when she started feeling unwell.

Maggie went to the kitchen to get a towel,feeling herself strangely tempted to fall back into her old habits. If she tried, she could pretend she was home from college, home to eat and lounge on the sofa until the memory of that botched term paper or final exam faded into sweet oblivion. A botched engagement and a dead aunt was a lot harder. She wiped up the milk and scanned the room for anything out of place, anything that might upset Jaime when she came home. As her eyes drifted over the living room, they fell on the family photos on the old green shelf Luisa had once stenciled with lavender flowers. There were photos of Maggie after she’d come to live with them, Maggie on the track and field team, at a birthday party with some of the other queer kids from her high school. Things were already starting to open up back then, get better. Next to those were photos of Jaime, streaks of light in her brown hair, her hazel eyes peering guarded up at the camera. They sat next to a pale, ash-colored envelope on which was stencilled, “You are cordially invited to the wedding of Margarita Sawyer and Alexandra Danvers on the date of..."

Maggie closed her eyes again and slid the invitation behind a volume of Little Women, one of Luisa's favorite books. Then she went into the kitchen and opened the freezer, finding it stocked with Luisa’s specialities, the tamales and cabbage rolls she made for when she had to work late and Maggie or Jaime came home from school. She took one out and stared at it like it was a brick of cocaine. Felt even more absurd and sad to hear her stomach rumble. It felt offensive enough to want to eat now, but Luisa would just tell her she was wasting food, not to mention her hard work. 

She put it in the microwave and took a seat at the table in the kitchen nook. When she took it out, she stared at it, the smell of it bringing her back to when Luisa was alive. She didn't eat. She didn't eat because for the first time since the phone call in the bar a day and a half ago, Maggie Sawyer put her face in her hands and allowed herself to cry.


	6. Whups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois and Alex have a heart to heart— and maybe more in common than they thought.

Lois had been right about the waterfront. As rainbows and illusory explosions rippled through the sky across the bay, Alex, Jon, and Lois were strolling easily along the boardwalk, picking at cartons from Hot Louie’s burrito bus. It was a mild day for winter; Metropolis had been enjoying a warmer season that year, despite an incident with Mr. Freeze. A scattering of golden leaves rustled around them as they made their way down the boardwalk.

Lois and Alex chatted easily at first, about her flight, and the craziness they had just experienced. They didn’t talk about the mission, but as Jon skipped ahead to chase after a gaggle of wild geese that now huddled around the fountain, Lois said, “I was so sorry to hear about you and Maggie, Alex. How are you doing?” 

Alex paused, her mouth still full of food, and wiped a bit of Verde sauce from her lips. She should have expected this. Lois had always been a straight shooter.

“Well,” she said, “Not great. But...better.”

Lois looked at her. “Yeah?”

“Maggie was...is... the first person I’ve ever loved like that. I’m still not sure I made the right choice. I don’t have any other experiences to gauge that against, you know?”

“I think I do,” Lois said. She paused and took a seat on one of the cinder block tree pots lining the dock and patted the space beside her. Alex took a seat close to the other woman, easing up in the warmth and intimacy. 

“And the thing is...” she said, “Here Maggie was, teaching me to not keep my feelings down, and so I didn’t, and that was a step in the right direction for me at first, but if I’m honest, there’s a fine line between self-realization and being self-absorbed. I really don’t think I spent enough time considering hers.”

Lois leaned down and picked up her coffee, warming her hands around the cup. “When I first learned that Clark and Superman were one and the same, I felt like I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.”

“How so?” Alex asked. 

“Well, I’d been an ass to Clark for one thing. For years. Blatantly pining over Superman and treating Clark like an intern with an unfortunate crush, all the while repressing my feelings for that side of him, if that makes any sense. I’d grown up on army bases. Witnessed a lot of macho posturing, and I think I instilled this unconscious notion that I wasn’t allowed to love a man who was gentle.”

“Whooo yeah,” Alex said. “I spent a lot of years talking about boys and picking fights with the girls I was in love with. I can definitely relate.”

Lois chuckled and shook her head. “We spend so much time putting on shows for one another. It’s amazing people manage to ever find out what they really want,” she smiled wanly and took a sip of her coffee. 

Alex thought about those words, about her sister Kara’s recent jag over Mon-El, her dour insistence that she wasn’t really human, so why deal with the whole feelings thing anyway? That was a kind of show, too. 

“Anyway,” Lois said,”it’s good to have you here. I hope this trip, despite the reasons for it, helps you take your mind off things a bit.”

“It should,” Alex laughed. “Nothing like alien weapons smugglers to stave off a little heartbreak.”

“It’s the best thing for it.” Lois patted her arm as they sipped their coffee, Lois nearly dropping her cup as she glanced up.

“Jonathan Lane Kent!”

Alex’s mouth dropped and the two of them shot to their feet.One of the male geese was hovering above the fountain and squawking, flapping its wings at the boy, advancing on him. That wasn’t a problem; Jonathan wouldn’t come to any harm, but he was transfixed by the bird’s display of bravado and was floating a good three feet above the water’s surface in full view of everyone on the boardwalk. Fortunately, the magical fireworks on the other side of the bay had netted most of the attention.

“Jonathan!” Lois called out again. 

The boy turned his head, his eyes wide as his body dropped into the fountain with a tremendous splash. The goose took the opportunity to lunge at him, and Jon stumbled backward into the water. He emerged a second later, completely drenched, his red Flash hoodie now a soaked maroon.

“Whups,” he said.

Lois smiled sympathetically. “Whups.”  
She turned to Alex. “Time to get home anyway. You could probably get some sleep. Clark will be by tonight to take you to the HOJ.”

“HOJ?” Alex asked.

“Hall of Justice,” Lois said. “Sounds so pompous, so...HOJ.Ever been there?”

Alex shook her head. “I’ve heard...a lot.” 

“That part about the going through a Lantern Corps security scanner is bunk, but the rest...well, you’ll see,” Lois said, placing an arm around her wet son’s shoulders as he embraced her. “Oh, Jon. Now we’re both going to need to change,” she said. 

“Whups,” said the boy again.

That’s an apt description for things, Alex thought, remembering Maggie.


	7. Something to Swing at

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie picks up Jaime at school and fails to take to its shiny new toys.

Janet Elsterberg wasn't dressed for the Nebraska weather. A tall woman in a thin blouse and slacks, she hadn't even bothered with a coat as she stepped through the newly falling snow to Maggie's car. She was holding a small duffel bag of Jaime's things and looking very eager to unload it.

"Ms. Sawyer?" she said, shivering.

Maggie hadn't dressed for the cold either. She wore a long coat, meant more for National City rain than Nebraska, over a sports jacket and jeans. She wasn't reconsidering taking custody of Jaime, but until she could figure out what to do with the girl, she wanted to make sure she made a good impression. Halterville, like Blue Springs, was a place where you maintained leverage by blending in.

As she stepped out of the car, Elsterberg held out her hand. It was wet and cold, and felt like wringing out a towel. "Ms. Sawyer?" she said. 

"Call me Maggie."

"I'm glad you could make it here so quickly? Must have been a long drive."

Before Maggie could make any pleasantries, Elsterberg cut her off. "Has the rest of the family been contacted?"

Maggie's expression soured slightly at the thought of her parents. Back in National City, after Oscar had stormed out of her bridal shower, Maggie had made the final cut to a connection that had been violently fraying since she was fourteen. Now, not only was she forced back into contact with him under the most difficult possible circumstances, she would have to deal with her mother as well. Would Elena Rodas even _come_ the funeral? If so, would she acknowledge Maggie’s existence? Even recognize her? "Luisa's attorney contacted them this morning,” she said. “They're making arrangements for the funeral. Looks like Sunday at the earliest."

__

Elsterberg nodded, her expression sympathetic. "It must be hard. For everyone involved."

"Bad things happen," Maggie said. "Thanks for taking her in, by the way." She hoisted the bag from the teacher's hands and placed it into the backseat of the car. "How's Jaime?"

Elsterberg shook her head and smiled sadly. A little too sadly, Maggie thought. There was something theatrical about that caring exterior. "Not a word about Luisa," she said. "I suppose it's a survival mechanism, but so far... it's like nothing has happened."

Maggie shut the door to the car. "Sometimes that's how you cope."

"Well, I'll take you to her," Elsterberg said. "She should just be finishing up, baseball practice."

"Little League in the middle of a Nebraska winter," Maggie said. "Things have changed."

For the first time, the teacher showed some enthusiasm. "We have outdoor sports all year round here at Tryon K-12. Thanks to a generous grant from Skyhook technologies. They built an indoor stadium here. It's small, but the locals all love it. Baseball, basketball, indoor soccer all year. I guess, you'd say it gives us small town folk something to do."

Maggie smiled appreciatively. "I got into more of my share of trouble when things were slow around here. Glad to hear they're investing in these kids."

"I think that part is mostly for the adults, to be frank," Elsterberg said.

Elsterberg opened the door for Maggie and began leading her through the narrow, maze-like corridors of the school. The atmosphere of its prison like exterior didn't dissipate inside. With most of the students gone for the day, it looked to Maggie like the kind of abandoned building used as a hideout in one of those apocalypse dramas. She imagined the lone stragglers, holing up, hoarding food and ammunition. The gaudy holiday decorations, slapped to the walls and dangling lazily from the ceiling, seemed to have been rushed up to fend off an insurrection, and she laughed silently when she saw that some kid had scrawled, 'and Happy Fucking KWANZA, too. You forgot!' in ballpoint between a 'Merry' and a 'Christmas.' 

Elsterberg chatted with her breezily as they passed the cafeteria, also empty, save a janitor who was struggling to drag a mop over its enormous floor. She didn't talk about Jaime, or Luisa, but all about Skyhook Tech and how it was, Maggie thought wryly, pulling miracles out of its silicone-based ass.

As they turned the corner toward to the doors that led to the school grounds, Maggie looked to her left to see an enormous glassed in lab, inside which sat some 40 students of varying age. They were seated rigidly in front of computer monitors in the dimmed room, their fingers bustling over their keyboards almost in unison. Maggie narrowed her eyes as she noticed that electrodes were hooked up to their temples. Their arms were all strapped into what looked like blood pressure monitors. It was something out of a sci-fi channel, or she thought with a twinge of discomfort, the DEO.

"Wow," Maggie said, pausing before the glass. "That's...impressive."

Elsterberg clasped her hands together, clearly thrilled that Maggie had noticed. "This," she said, "Is what we give back in return for that big stadium out there. We're one of the charter programs for Skyhook Technology's new hyper-situated learning program. One of only 50 satellites in the nation." 

"Only 50," Maggie said. "And what are those kids doing? Monitoring North Korea?"

Elsterberg let out a sing song laugh. "Even better. They're learning. Fast. It's this amazing new educational technology. Retrains their brains to focus and provides them with access to massive amounts of information."

Maggie peered closer to the glass and waved her hand. None of the students looked up; they all stayed grimly focused on the screens in front of them.

"We've got 11-year-olds who've never picked up a book spending hours in the library doing actual research with real data. Vocabulary levels are shooting up as well. Why yesterday, one of my 5th graders gave me grief because I didn't know what 'nacreous' meant."

Maggie smiled uncomfortably. "Sounds like a pearl. Whole school taking part in this?"

Elsterberg shook her head. "It's a satellite program, so we're taking it gradually. Alistair Tierney is vetting the best candidates, the ones who make the most progress will get full rides to any school they're accepted into. And," she added, "You'll happy to know that Jaime is part of the program. She's a very gifted child, but for a while there, we were worried about her. She had trouble sitting still, focusing. Now? It's mostly a different story."

"Mostly," Maggie said, wondering why that last part gave her a strong sense of relief. "I'm sure Louisa was happy about that."

Despite Elsterberg's boasts, the air inside the Tryon stadium wasn't much warmer than outside. They walked down the concrete steps, a narrow aisle that passed through the bleachers. On the field, practice was winding down. Some of the girls were already lounging on the bench, watching the others play catch and practice batting. Maggie spotted Jaime right away. It was her turn at the plate and she hurried up to the diamond, giving the bat a few eager swings.

She was a skinny kid. Her hair, once dark like Maggie's, had lightened in the hard sunlight of the Nebraska summer. She had a cap drawn over her eyes, and she reached up, ran a hand across her face as she waited for the pitcher to warm up. A timid looking girl with corn-colored hair stood hesitantly on the mound. She raised her arm and threw the ball underhand and Jamie stepped back off the plate. 

"Ball one!" shouted another kid from behind the fence. 

Jamie frowned and held up the bat. At eight years old, Jaime Sawyer was still pretty small, but she didn't look like the kind of kid to take any crap. In a few seconds, Maggie would discover the rightness of that assessment. Jaime whispered something at the pitcher, who took a step back and tossed the ball again in a weak underhanded arc. Jaime dropped the bat and stalked over to the other girl, and for the first time since that brief conversation on the phone at Wall-E's, Maggie heard the child's voice.

"Weak!" Jaime shouted. "This is weak! I didn't come here to stand around." 

She was leaning into the other girl, their eyes level.

"Coach said I should go easy on you today," the girl sputtered. 

Jaime's mouth puckered into a sneer as she slowly shook her head. "So, I can’t hit now? What do you think I do? _Every_ day!” She kicked her foot into the asphalt. "Maybe _you_ just can't throw!"

"She's acting out," Elsterberg said. "Not allowing herself to grieve."

Maggie glared back at her. "Let's keep the pop psychology to ourselves," she said. 

"Hey!" 

It was Bill Anderson, Jaime's coach. He jogged across the asphalt and placed his hands on both girls' shoulders, pushing them gently apart. "This is not appropriate behavior. From either of you!"

"She's wasting time!" Jaime said, and kicked into the asphalt again. Maggie was simultaneously steeling herself and swallowing down a strange sense of pride. Jaime had some of her in her; that was clear.

"No!" the other girl said, gaining some courage in Anderson's presence. "You are! Why'd you even come today?"

"Not for your weenie arm!" Jaime said. 

"Crybaby!" said the girl. "Don't you have a funeral to go to?"

" Not cool, Talbot!" Anderson said. He pointed toward the other girls. "Sit! You're in the dugout for the rest of the week."

Muttering to herself, the other girl stalked over to where the others were sitting. They formed a gleeful huddle, watching as Anderson walked Jaime further on the field. He was giving her a talking to, likely one that would help, Maggie thought, but Elsterberg took that opportunity to interrupt them.

"Bill! Oh, Bill! Jaime's cousin is here!"

The coach looked back and seeing them, put a hand on Jaime's shoulder and tried to steer her back toward the bleachers. The girl shrugged it off violently, her head down. Anderson leaned down and whispered something, pointing in Maggie's direction and Jaime looked up. Even from that distance, the girl’s eyes were dark and piercing. Her hands, balled into fists, relaxed. Anderson gave her a gentle slap on the back and she hurried ahead of him. 

"Watch that temper, Sawyer!" he called out.

Good, Maggie thought. He's learned his lesson. He’s treating her the same as everybody else. 

As she approached Maggie and Mrs. Elsterberg, Jaime held her chin up, as if to say 'yeah I'm not embarrassed about that back there.'

"Hi, Maggie?" Jaime said. She leaned in awkwardly for a brief hug. 

"Hey," Maggie said, feeling her chest heave slightly, which made it even more irritating to feel Elsterberg's eyes crawling over them. "You okay?" 

It was a stupid question, and thankfully the girl didn't answer; she just shrugged slightly, but to Maggie, it felt more like a shudder. She pulled away and gave Jaime a cautious smile. 

"Bummed that I couldn't see you hit one out there. You looked about ready to put a hole in the roof."

Jaime turned back and glared at the Talbot girl. "It'll happen," she said. 

"Yeah, I'm sure it will," Maggie nodded, never doubting it for a second. "Ready to get out of here?" 

Jaime nodded. 

She reached in her pocket for her keys and then turned back to Elsterberg. "Thank you, again. You've been a real help."

Elsterberg gave her an unctuous smile. "My pleasure."

As the two of them made their way back up the concrete steps, Jaime stopped and turned back to the coach.  
"I'm coming tomorrow. And I better have something to swing at."


	8. Home is where no one can see you.

Maggie opened the door to Luisa’s apartment and let Jaime enter first. She didn’t try to make uneasy conversation, but let the girl take in the silence on her own. She’d attempted a few questions on the drive, but Jaime had just given perfunctory answers—the kind a teen gives to parents’ routine questions about school or boys. Maggie didn’t want to be a parent, much less one of _those_ parents, so she kept quiet and let her mind rest on the strangeness of the past 48 hours. Jaime would open up when she felt like it, and maybe it wouldn’t be to Maggie. Minus Luisa, was there someone else the kid confided in?  


The girl stepped into the living room and dropped her gym bag on the coffee table. Maggie knew Luisa wouldn’t have stood for that, but this wasn’t the time to hector the kid. If she wasn’t going to take custody of her, she could at least be a cool aunt, or cousin. Maggie had always been more of an aunt.  


“You hungry?” Maggie asked, placing her keys on a stool near the entrance. She took off her shoes and put them in front of the door. When she lived in her own place, she’d made a habit of removing them when she came indoors. She’d always had a thing for hardboiled East Asian detective movies, the old ones by Kurosawa like _Stray Dog_ , or the newer ones like _Old Boy_ , with their mad dog characters and high strung action sequences. She’d started taking off her shoes in the house on a lark after an ex-girlfriend had prodded her about her _salaryman_ style workaholism, but after awhile, the shoe thing just felt right. She could rest her feet and the place wasn’t tracked in whatever godawful detritus she’d picked up at a crime scene. When she moved in with Alex, she still did when she could, although Alex’s penchant for laced up work boots didn’t make it easy for her to follow suit, especially when a neat scotch beckoned from the liquor cabinet across the room.  


__

Jaime looked at Maggie’s shoes and raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you do that?”  


“Feels better,” Maggie said. “Half the world does this. You want pizza? I’m going to order in.”  


Jaime nodded and regarded Maggie cautiously. “I don’t like green peppers.”  


“Not a problem,” Maggie said. "Not much of a fan myself." 

She picked up the phone and ordered a half cheese, half combination, minus the green bits and a six-pack of Coke. Maggie didn’t drink the stuff, but tonight the kid could use to be indulged. She walked into the kitchen counter and looked for something to indulge in herself. Ben Sawyer had always stashed a bottle of Teachers in the cupboard above the refrigerator. Maybe Luisa had let it stay there as a keepsake. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up and opened the door, stretching her fingers until she felt the familiar cool of the glass bottle.

“Thank you kindly, Ben.”

As she settled back on her feet, a wave of woozy hunger hit her. She hadn’t eaten since the convenience store during the drive. Maybe she’d wait until the pizza came to have a tipple.  


She poured herself two fingers and walked back into the living room. Jaime wasn’t there.

“Hey, Jaime?” she called out.  


The girl didn’t answer, so Maggie walked down the corridor toward the two bedrooms that were tucked into the far end of the duplex.  
“Jaime?” she said again. She passed by the open door of the girl's room and saw it was empty. On the walls were a couple of _One Direction_ posters and a few baseball pendants, below which was Jaime’s bed, still mussed from two nights before. An enormous stuffed walrus peered out at her from beneath the rumpled covers.  


“You still with me?” Maggie called out again. 

“I'm fine!" said a voice from the far bedroom. "Don't come in!”  


_Nice one, kid,_ Maggie thought. She ducked her head out of Jaime’s room and proceeded down the hallway to Luisa’s. The door was ajar and she gave it a gentle push. As it swung open, she saw Jaime sitting on the edge of the mattress, her small fingers fisted in the bedspread. She was holding a photo: the bedside one of Dan and Luisa's wedding.  


“Hey,” Maggie said. “You okay?”  


"I said I was," Jaime said. "God!" She kept her head down, a strand of almond hair concealing her face, but the shudder that enveloped the child’s body told Maggie everything. 

Maggie hurried over to her and sat down on the bed. She placed an arm around her shoulders, stiffly at first, but as Jaime leaned into her, and in that small voice let loose with a grief no child should experience, Maggie found herself nestling her face in the girl’s hair. 

“I know,” she whispered, feeling an ache in her throat. “You're safe here. Just let it out.”


	9. Skyhook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara goes to Skyhook Tech to do a puff piece for Catco Magazine.

“You may not believe it, but _this_ was me.”

Alistair Tierney clicked a handheld device and a picture of a boy appeared on the wide auditorium screen: he was dramatically malnourished, like something out of Dickens or one of those Dorothea Lang photos from the Great Depression. His clothes were blackened in soot, his face smudged and his thick hair matted to his head. A front tooth was missing, giving him the look of a sad, kicked-in Jack O’ Lantern as he smiled for the camera. It was all kinds of sad, Kara thought, but the audience around her laughed. 

They laughed because the Tierney now speaking to them was impeccably dressed, in a grey Garcon suit, his bronze hair carefully mussed, and his teeth shone white and perfect. He looked far more greyhound than shelter mutt. 

“I’m serious, by the way,” he said.

The room met Tierney’s confession with a few more scattered chuckles, and finally uncomfortable silence. 

Tierney turned back towards his audience, lip curled in a smile both self-deprecating and sad. “I don’t share this past in my autobiography because I think it’s best to show you up front what you can accomplish. What any child, whatever the adversity he or she may face, can achieve.”

From her vantage point in the audience, Kara Danvers thought if she got any closer to the stage, the smell of _Clive Christian Number One_ seeping from his skin would have her head spinning. It smelled an awful lot like that drink Mon-El gave her the first night she ever got properly drunk. Now that he was ensconced at the DEO with what’s-her-face, Mon-El was no longer drinking. He’d made a big show in saying it as well, sneaking a glance at Kara, Alex later informed her, when he did. 

“More scotch for me,” Alex said. 

__

__

She was here on assignment for Catco. “A puff piece,” Lena had confessed to her, “but I thought you could use something light after the Barton story, which by the way, made our readership spike last week. You should be proud.”

Kara had just spent three weeks investigating The Frontiersmen, a group of self-professed vigilantes who’d been ambushing illegal trafficking portals from Trom and Rimbor-5. Initially, her goal had been to do an expose on xenophobia, but during her investigation—with a little help from an alter ego—she discovered that Senator Barton, who’d loudly supported the anti-alien group had been taking payoffs from the alien traffickers themselves. Barton resigned an hour before the piece went to print. Lena, Kara, and Sam had celebrated with a bottle of Opus One. 

“I appreciate your concern, Lena,” Kara had told her, feeling herself color slightly, “But I don’t need to rest. I’ve got energy to spare.”

Lena quirked an eyebrow at her and laughed softly. “So I’ve seen. You do know I have an ulterior motive.”

“Ohhhh, now I see,” Kara said, adjusting her glasses. “Got it.”

“Well,” Lena said, taking a seat next to Kara, “Alistair _is_ a lovely man, quite suave and articulate. But a bit of a wolf. If I’m going to dine with him, I’m going to make damned well sure I’m not alone, and…” she reached over and placed a hand on Kara’s arm, “that you don’t starve.”

She gave it a squeeze, and Kara felt her stomach flip at the pressure of Lena’s fingers. The Kryptonian’s arm, even swaddled under a thick cardigan sweater and denim blouse, was as firm as marble. Kara feigned ticklishness and pulled away just as Lena’s expression began to turn quizzical.

“I’m always up for more food,” Kara said, “And the company, of course.” She looked at her friend and cleared her throat. "Yours I mean. I'm sure he's nice, but I haven't...

“He's a charmer,” Lena said. “I can assure you of that.”

From her seat in the third row, Kara was beginning to sense the exact opposite, and she hoped to Rao Lena wasn’t trying to set the two of them up. She especially hoped that hearing Kara’s sob story about “Mike” being “back from Vegas with a new bride” wasn’t the motivation.

Her misplaced good intentions always made Kara feel guilty. That Lena was just trying to help her, spurred on by on Kara’s deceit felt even worse now that the gorgeous CEO was her boss. She had been itching to share her secret with Lena for a long time now. She and Clark, not to mention James, had gone a few rounds on that one. James was adamantly against it, Clark more on the ‘just against’ scale. While he’d responded to Mon-El’s Daxamite origin with magnanimity, the damage and mistrust caused by his friendship with Lex wasn’t just something that disappeared. 

“I know she’s your friend, Kara,” Clark had told her. “But if she’s _really_ your friend and finds out later, she’ll certainly understand your need to keep Supergirl a secret.”

And now it seemed that that was going to be the test: Lena finding out eventually and Kara either losing her completely or having to sheepishly, and likely tearfully, explain years of fabrications to a woman who’d had her back from the moment they’d met. She remembered her recent battle with Overgirl, the Nazi doppleganger on Earth X. Here on Earth 38, there was the real Kara Danvers, and then there was the one who lied to Lena. At least neither of them was a fascist, she thought, although James had implied that Kara did have a dangerous authoritarian streak running through her.

People saw different things in one another. Today, she was in the Skyhook Tech building, listening to Lena’s ‘lovely man’ give an angelically themed spiel promising to save underprivileged children from America to Bangladesh, to close that digital divide once and for all. But all Kara could see was an already powerful man who couldn’t get enough of it. 


	10. Wonder Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex meets Diana

“We don’t accept these.” The HOJ guard frowned. He cocked his head and held up Alex’s DEO ID like it was a turd. 

“What’s the problem, Ray?” said Clark. He gave Alex an apologetic look and stepped toward the window. The security check at the Hall of Justice was not unlike one in LAX or New Jersey or one of the many TSA enhanced hellholes that dotted the country. In fact, from the outside, the place looked like an old state department building, square and armored in bathroom tiles. ‘Post-modern’ was how Catco Magazine once described it. _More like post-office_ , Alex thought.

Ray, unmoved by Superman’s presence, gave the ID a tap and looked at both of them with exhausted suspicion. Alex’s ID shifted from DEO to FBI to Air Marshal in an instant. 

“You do know that those are only issued by the DEO,” Alex said. She paused and looked up at Superman uncertainly. “Doesn’t he?”

Ray glowered back at her. “Yeah, but they don’t issue people, do they? How do I know which one you are if there’s a few hundred of your here?” He lifted his chin, bypassing Alex to address Clark. “She’s going to need a retinal scan, and you’ll need to get the DEO to send over confirmation on that as well.”

Clark furrowed his brows and was about to say something, but then he nodded and clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“Of course, Ray,” he said. As he walked her away from the security checkpoint, he said, “Sorry, they’re a bit touchy around here after Mxy’s infiltration. So much red tape not even Batman can keep up with it.”

“Not a problem,” Alex said. “Give people a little power…”

“And they try to take over worlds,” Clark said. 

“On scales large and small,” she laughed, remembering Kara’s crack from a few months back. 

Clark leaned into her. “We’ve got a secret entrance on the roof. We’ll just use that until Ray gives you the go ahead. I like to give them a little show of cooperation. Makes them feel better.”

“Gotcha,” Alex said. 

A short walk outside and a brief instant later, Clark and Alex were inside the JLA proper, Clark leading her into the organization’s legendary research room. It was stunning, Alex thought. It reminded her of the John Rylands Library in Manchester, with its high windows and ornately carved shelves of leather bound books—only with alien artefacts and Infernian glowscrolls complimenting the miles of books representing the 28 known galaxies and 53 Earths. 

“Oh…”Alex said, clasping her hands together. “This…this is. Wow! Lois wasn’t kidding.”

“I was excited to show you this,” he said. “And also, I think you’ll find a lot of what you need here. A lot of information about weaponry and alien contraband.” 

Alex nodded slowly as she took it all in, marvelling at the fireplace crackling in the chimney that spiralled up at the centre of the room. 

“That touch was all Hawkman’s idea,” Clark said. “Mostly an illusion, we can’t have fire threatening the volume, but the warmth is real.”

Alex looked up to spot a woman hovering above them. She was tall, the edges of her shoes resting lightly on a shelf at least two stories above them. She pulled out a volume and slowly pivoted in the air, noticing the sound of their voices. Lowering her glasses, she peered down at Alex and Clark.

“Kal!” she said. “Good to see you well after the mess this morning. Gracefully, she began to sink through the air toward the ground. “And who is this?”

"Alex Danvers, Kara’s sister,” Clark said. “She’s here to help us with the Zakkarian trouble.”

“Oh, of course,” Diana Prince landed lightly in front of them and held out her hand. She was dressed in a dark green cashmere sweater and black jeans, and Alex noticed as she took her hand, the bracelets tucked beneath loose emerald sleeves. “Nice to meet you, Alex Danvers,” she said, “Diana of—“

“Themyscira,” Alex said. “I know. I mean, of course. I mean... how would I _not_ know.” She did a little wave of her other hand and smiled nervously. 

Diana glanced at her curiously, and Alex noted, mortified, somewhat bemused.

She was just so _gorgeous_ , Alex thought, feeling very much the way she had when Cathy Parker, the captain of the Midvale pep squad, presented her the first place trophy at the Science Fair and Alex backed right off the stage. When she remembered these incidents, from a long line of _many, many_ incidents--including her current stammering in front of an Amazon princess-- her late realization of her sexuality seemed all the more baffling. 

__

__

Flustered, she let go of Diana’s hand and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.“It's very nice to meet you," she said breathily. "I admire your wonder." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Your work."

"Thank you," Diana said warmly. "You are so kind."

She glanced up at Clark and passed him the volume she'd been holding in her other hand. "I think the two of you should take a look at this," she said. "It's from the archives of Zagortha. An ancient Amazon legend that predates the river Lethe. There are some surprising similarities to the effects of one of the Zakkarian substances."

Diana opened the book and pointed to an illustration. A line of figures walking rigidly toward a rapid creek, its water swirling up at them, lapping at their heads as it sucked away their spirits and replaced them with something else. There was water flowing up from the creek and flowing through their ears, into their eyes, their nostrils, and despite the crude, ancient woodwork, the expressions on the people's faces were terrifying, visceral.

 _Like body snatchers,_ Alex thought. 

"The symptoms of the overdoses," Diana said, "were too similar. It bears some looking into." 

Clark looked at the page, his expression uncharacteristically grim. "Thank you, Diana. We'll look into this."


	11. Oh human child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something shady about Jaime's school

Maggie awoke on the sofa wrapped in Luisa’s quilt and a couple of blankets she’d found in the linen closet. It would have felt weird to sleep in Luisa’s bed and it had taken so long for Jaime to drift off, she didn’t want to risk disturbing her. Her head throbbed as she opened her eyes to the grey light, and soon realized the banging sound had nothing to do with the whiskey she’d indulged in: It was coming from outside, a steady ‘thwack’ reverberating louder in the snow-muted stillness. There had been a light dusting earlier yesterday afternoon, but when Maggie slipped over to the window, she was confronted with that uniform white of her childhood. Her car, parked across the street, had been completely covered during the night, its bent fender sticking out like the limb of some godawful public sculpture. 

’Thwack!’

Unable to spot the source of the noise, she slipped coat on over over a T-shirt and the pair of woolen pajama bottoms she’d scavenged from Luisa’s dresser. It felt ghoulish wearing her aunt’s clothes, but she’d forgotten how damned cold this place got in winter. Then slipping her bare feet into her boots, she winced slightly as the leather iced her soles and opened the door.

From the top of the stairs, she spotted Jaime, her small figure swaddled in a bright red jacket and oversized snow boots as she hurled a ball against the garage of the next door apartment. It wasn’t even approaching seven am, and the sound was even more grating up close. The kid had an arm, that was certain. But as Maggie lifted a hand to her forehead, she reminded herself that this was why she just didn’t do kids.

She steadied herself on the icy iron railing and made her way down to the first landing. She leaned over and said, “Hey!” 

Jaime had heard her; that was clear, but the girl didn’t respond. She paused and then drew her arm back, throwing the ball at the garage with even more force. The aluminum siding rattled as it smacked against its beige paint, leaving a small gray spot.

“Jaime! Who else do you think I’m talking to?” Maggie said, instantly hating how that sounded. Jaime turned and stared up at her, her tiny features hardened, completely devoid of the vulnerability she had shown the night before.

“I take it you’re not afraid of the neighbors,” Maggie said.

The kid threw her hands out and said, “There’s no one _there_ ” as if that fact should have been obvious to Maggie and to everyone else in the state. “The Garlands moved out a month ago and Mr. Riley can’t get anyone else to move in because he’s too much of a cheapo to fix the toilet. Place smells like poop.” Jaime said that last word defiantly, as if she expected Maggie to clutch her pearls. Instead, Maggie closed her eyes and exhaled.  

The sudden existence of a landlord in the picture made her hangover even worse. Another thing she was going to have to deal with, all the while figuring out what to do with Jaime, not to mention that her parents were popping by with Waters in a few hours to begin what was guaranteed to be long and tedious probate wrangle. Maggie didn’t want to lay claim to any of Luisa’s possessions. Those should all go to Jaime anyway, but she didn’t want to deal with Waters asking her to reconsider Luisa’s request, not to mention her father’s certain-to-be-violent objections. Maggie didn’t want anything to do with Oscar, but as she’d once told Alex, he _had_ been a great dad before learning his daughter was gay. If she tried hard enough, she could see him being that for Jaime.

She squeezed the railing, anchoring herself on the icy feel of it. Her toes were starting to numb. “Jaime, come on inside.”

But Jaime was already moving, not in response to Maggie, but to something else. Her ears were cocked and her eyes distant, as if she could sense something hanging in the chill air around them.

“Got school today anyway,” Jaime said clomping past her on the stairs.

“Not today,” Maggie said, following her inside and closing the door. She slipped off the boots and strolled over to turn up the thermostat. 

“Why?” Jaime called back from her room. 

Maggie started the kettle, found a can of Folger’s and pulled an opener out of the drawer. “Your uncle and aunt are coming over and we have some things to take care of.”

Jaime stopped and gave Maggie a petulant look. “I’m going to miss practice.”

“They’ll survive without you.”

“That’s what I mean. If I don’t go Trina Yates is going to get my spot.”

Maggie grabbed a box of cereal from the cupboard and two bowls. “It’s just a couple of days,” she said.

A couple?” Jaime said. “Great! Now I’m really screwed.”

“Look,” Maggie said, plunking a carton of milk down on the kitchen table. “First survival tip, you can’t look at the world like everyone’s out to get you.”

Jaime folded her arms. “But they are.”

Maggie poured some coffee grounds into a makeshift filter she’d fitted over her cup as she thought about it.“Yeah, you’re probably right. But anyway, you’re not going. And second survival tip, you fight back by picking who and what you need to worry about. You worry about everything and you leave yourself open to it all.”

For the first time, Jaime looked at her and really seemed to take her in. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Maggie said. “Besides I saw Trina Yates out there yesterday. She was weak.”

Jaime giggled wickedly and Maggie managed a smile back, but the instant didn’t last. The kid’s eyes narrowed into that distant attentiveness, like she was listening to something Maggie couldn’t hear. She turned away from the kitchen table and scanned the room.

“There it is!” she said, and crossing the room, she pulled up the quilt and removed the tablet that Maggie had seen her toying with the day before—the one issued by Skyhook’s Learning Program.

“You could hear that thing?” Maggie asked. 

Jaime brought the tablet to the table and sat down. “I can. You can’t. Most grown ups can’t.”

“Like a dog whistle,” Maggie said. She pulled the filter off the coffee cup and lifted it to her nose enjoying the warmth and the straightforwardness of its aroma. No hints of berry or hibiscus in this stuff, just pure bitter and pure caffeine. She took a long sip and felt her headache already starting to ease. 

“So that’s part of the program you’re in?” Maggie asked. She poured a bowl of cereal for Jaime, pushing it in front of her. The kid didn’t object to this rather abject spread, Maggie thought gratefully. She was recalcitrant, but at least she wasn’t a picky eater. They didn’t have that in common. That, she thought, might have been another thing she and Alex would have had trouble with down the road. 

”Yeah,” Jaime said. She poured some milk into her bowl, nearly missing it as a series of odd characters floated down the tablet at lighting speed. At first, Maggie thought it was some kind of screen saver, maybe for anime fans. The characters somewhat resembled the boxy katakana alphabet used for foreign words, but as they slowed on the screen, Maggie saw they were entirely different. There were hundreds of glyphs as well, flipping over, turning in three dimensional graphics and changing shape as Jaime shifted them around with her finger. 

”Are you…reading that?” Maggie said.

Jaime glanced up at her and matter-of-factly said, “Yes.”

”That’s part of your program,” Maggie said. 

Jaime spooned some cereal into her mouth, nodding as she chewed on it. Then she swallowed and said, “It’s the Matrictext. They created it. If we learn in the code, we don’t forget.

Maggie nodded, slowly and as calmly as she could,”Like what?”

Jaime’s chest puffed up slightly, and she picked up the tablet and turned it over so she couldn’t see it. Then she opened her mouth and spoke. “Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we’ve hid our faery vats, Full of berries, And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child To the waters and the wild With a faery hand in hand For the world’s more full of weeping than—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...” Maggie said, “Nice. You memorized that then.

Jaime shook her head and ate another spoonful of cereal. “I just read it,” she said, with her mouth full. "Now," she gestured to her head with her spoon, "It's in here."

Thirty minutes later, when Jaime was cleaning up in the bathroom, Maggie grabbed the tablet and took a screenshot, sending it to herself. Then she picked up her phone and called the DEO. 

Winn picked up. “Sawyer! Good to hear from you, Detective. Ummm… Alex isn’t here.

Maggie swallowed her disappointment, but kept her tone level. “That’s not why I’m calling, Winn. I need to run something by you.” She backed up quietly and glanced down the hallway, heard water still running in the bathroom. “I need you to check on a text for me. Think it's partially alien, but I can't place it.”

Winn sounded surprised and more than a little pleased. “Detective, of course!”

“For fuck’s sake, Winn. I hope we’re still on first names here.”

“Well,” Winn said conspiratorially. “Alex ordered me not to speak to you.” He paused and chuckled away the awkward silence on the other end. “Thaaaat was a joke. A bad, tasteless joke. Of course, Sawyer…Maggie. I’m delighted to be your friend.”

“I wouldn’t take it that far,” Maggie said, her voice light. “But maybe I'll buy you a few drinks, Schott.”

She could practically hear Winn grinning on the other end of the phone, but as Maggie put her own in her pocket, she sensed there was nothing to smile about.


	12. It sparkles while it's drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Lena drink and run

“That, I believe, is your fifth glass of champagne, Kara Danvers. And yet you don’t seem the slightest bit touched.” Alistair Tierney tilted his head and looked at Kara slyly, and a little too attentively, she noted. Maybe she should try to slur a little. She wasn’t sure Tierney’s rapt gaze didn’t harbor a hint of suspicion.

After his talk, he’d taken Kara and Lena to Le Pigeon, a prohibitively expensive and exclusive restaurant whose chef had a penchant for molecular gastronomy and vertical food. Kara swore, as she stabbed into a slice of gold-flaked chocolate cake, that it resembled the building of Tierney’s tech rival, Abbot Solutions. _Well, at least it tasted like chocolate_ , she thought.

Lena smiled, her fingers brushing the Kryptonian lightly on the shoulder. “You saw how much food she put away, Alistair.” She pulled an unopened bottle of Salon Cuvée from the ice bucket propped next to her and passed it to Kara. “Enough to help us absorb another bottle or two, I think.” 

_Really?_ Kara thought. Did Lena just do that? Pass her the bottle like that--like she was a big brother or a…boyfriend?

All throughout the evening, Lena had been making these unspoken shows of intimacy, pulling out Kara’s chair in lieu of the waiter, stopping Kara as she reached for the sparkling water to pour it herself. You’d think Kara had never seen the inside of a restaurant before. This felt like an entirely new dynamic between them, and one that wasn’t unwelcome and yet, could the bottle thing mean Lena suspected?

“Yes. I should think,” Alistair said. He smoothed his tie down and glanced at Kara. He looked older up close. The magazines always showed a rakish, public school Brit in his early thirties. He still looked about the right age, Kara thought, but there was something disturbingly wizened about his eyes. “I am glad you approve, Kara. Le Pigeon is one of my musts whenever I visit National City.”

“ _Whenever_ ,” Kara said, laughing a little too enthusiastically. She didn’t like the way Alistair’s eyes slid over her, and even more so, over Lena. She pretended to fiddle with the champagne cork for a second and then shrugged helplessly, passing it to Alistair. A cork in the eye would get him to stop his leering. She’d given the bottle a good, subtle shake—Barry Allen style. “Gosh. That’s impressive! I mean, Cat Grant said she had to wait six months to get a table near the bathroom.”

“Well,” said Tierney, fiddling with the bottle. It exploded, champagne spurting out all over the table and Kara suppressed a smile. Tierney proceeded to top off Kara and Lena’s flutes, “ _That_ might have something to do with Cat absolutely terrifying the chef.” He leaned in and cupped a hand over his mouth and whispered,”she called his cassoulet a carnage worthy of a PETA commercial.”

Kara and Lena both laughed.

“Sounds like Cat,” Lena said and the two women clinked glasses in acknowledgement of the media mogul’s acid tongue. Lena tossed half her glass back. She was getting drunk, Kara noted.Her cheeks were tinged with color and she had that distant hazy eyegleam of the intoxicated. Was Tierney making her nervous, or was something else bothering her? Lena didn’t usually drink like this. 

“So…” Kara said, “Tell me a little more about this satellite program you’re working on. 50 schools you say.”

“Expanding to a hundred as the program unfolds,” Tierney said. He was watching Lena carefully, like he was gauging how drunk she was. “The tech gets results, better results than any trumped up public school test scores in the country. I’m very proud, but those kids, they should be prouder.”

Kara smiled, her brow crinkling. “Quick results,” she said. “It’s astounding really, but I was wondering what you’d say to the behavioral issues claimed by some of the parents.” 

Tierney reared back suddenly as if Kara had slapped him in the face. Then he forced a smile. “I thought the interview was over, Kara,” he said. 

“Sorry,” Kara said. “Follow up questions. They come at random mo—“

She felt something touch her leg. It was Lena’s hand. The CEO was clasping her knee, and Kara glanced at her questioningly. She was pallid, her eyes distant as if she was in a trance.

“Lena?” Kara said.

For a long second, Lena’s fingers pressed down on Kara’s leg. Then she righted herself, letting go and dabbing at her forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry. Where did I get off to?”

Tierney refilled her glass of water and pushed it gently across the table towards her. “I think you got off to champagne,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Lena said. “Here I am with my two favorite people and such terrible company.” She picked it up gratefully and drank the whole glass.

“Let’s get you home,” Kara said. 

“I’m fine,” Lena said. “I’ll get a cab and leave my car. You two can—“

Tierney and Kara said ‘No need’ and “I wouldn’t have it” at the same time. The two of them both shot up from their seats and offered their hands to Lena. Lena reached up and slipped her arm through Kara’s. 

“I’ve got my car downstairs, Alistair,” she said. “Thank you for such a lovely evening.”

She steadied herself again and reached out her hand, allowing Tierney to kiss it briefly. Kara lifted hers in a wave. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said. “It was an unexpected…experience.” 

Tierney slipped his hands in his pockets and said, “I’m glad it met with your approval, Ms. Danvers.” As he watched the two women make their way across the restaurant floor, Tierney’s phone began buzzing.

“Where’ve you been?” the voice said. 

“Another disappearance?”

“Another five. And Alistair. Their trackers are offline.”


	13. On the banks of the River Lethe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short info dumpy chapter. Got hit with end of the semester papers to correct, but didn't want to skip a day. Thank you for reading.

“ _Do not drink of the River Lethe. You do not want to go. You only want not to be alone. Drink not of those waters to forget your sorrows. Let me drown you with my own. And make you whole._.”

Alex shuddered and took a quick nip of Scotch as she ran her fingers over the verse’s accompanying image: a reproduction of an ancient woodblock print: a line of figures, hunched almost into a single centipede like creature, their forms melding into one another, becoming the thing that was devouring them. Their shadowy figures were speckled with eyes staring out on different parts of their bodies, twisted mouths, and hand clutching through the darkness as if hoping to claw their way out. It was enough to make even a dedicated horror fan like herself close the book and hurl it out the window. There was something about simplicity of the image, less like an illustration than some primal code, a hidden killswitch that might infect her as she read. 

Diana had told her that in some of the older Amazon legends, the River Styx and the River Lethe had once been the same. It was Hades, taking mercy on a man who’d tragically lost his entire family, who'd stolen a bolt of Zeus to strike another branch, allowing Lethe to escape from its darker tributary into the world above.This proto-myth, along with the verse that had taken Winn two days to translate—“I’m kinda backed up right now,” he’d stammered—seemed eerily similar to the Zakkarian cases the DEO had been dealing with over the last month. The Trommite genocide had brought hundreds of refugees to Earth, all who shared at least some ability to alter the elements, and the Zakkarians had taken full advantage of the most recent wave of anti-alien prejudice-- _They’ll cook up meth labs all over the country! They’ll turn chlorine in our pools into plutonium!_ \--offering safe passage from interstellar camps to Earth, and papers in exchange for exactly what the fear mongers anticipated. Now, those legions of scared and displaced Trommites had nowhere else to go but right into the hands of those who'd use them as chemlabs, manufacturing drugs for every persuasion from Earthling to Roltikon. Their most recent, and decidedly horrific, candy gave urban legends like the Russian Sleep Experiment a run for their rubles.

Kastlagi, it was called, and there wasn’t a species immune to its lure. As they’d powered from warehouse to stakeout to shootout, Alex had seen people with their entire personalities replaced, had listened to the kind of _Body Snatchers_ style worries from their loved ones— “Bob isn’t really Bob, anymore”— only Bob hadn’t become some emotionless drone like in the movies, but sometimes violent and cold, sometimes cheerful and magnanimous, and sometimes hungry, with a mouth that could suck little Tommy into a 6 dimensional vortex. Users weren’t just being replaced by other minds, but other body parts and abilities. Just two weeks ago, Alex and a strike team had burst into the kitchen of a Tapas restaurant and found the chefs staring at a knife that had dropped through his fingers into his left foot. As he winced down at the blood seeping up through the thick canvass of his shoe, he wiggled his now intangible fingers in her face and said, "It...just...fell through."  <.P> Other victims found themselves with scales or protruding teeth, three eyes, missing appendages, and the genetically bred tattoo markings of the Rimborian sleeper gangs. It was like the Philadelphia Experiment, Alex thought, only instead of merging with the steel hull of a ship or flickering in and out of existence, you merged with other bodies, other beings and personalities. 

There was a brief, gentle knock, but all the same Alex jumped at the noise. 

“Ready?”

It was Lois. She smiled at Alex uncertainly. “You sure about this? He’s a handful.”

“So was Kara,” Alex smiled, placing the book in a drawer. “You two could use a breather.”

Clark and Lois were taking advantage of Alex’s presence to get a little couple time. A movie and dinner, maybe some last-minute Christmas shopping beforehand. Alex would be staying home with Jonathan, who was in a pout after a friend had disinvited him to a sleepover for “somehow melting Timmy’s Lego set.”

For her part, Alex was genuinely looking forward to a night watching horror flicks and eating popcorn after a full week of Batman’s barely veiled interrogations, not to mention making a perpetual fool of herself in front of Diana, who had a knack for timing their encounters to match Alex's maximum awkwardness. 

“Agent Danvers,” Batman had sniped one morning after she’d spilled a cup of smoky Lapsang Souchong down her front--Diana had laughed at one of _her_ biochemistry puns, and Alex had followed, chuckling with her until the liquid sloshed onto her sweater. “As my ward might put it, you have absolutely no chill with the ladies.”


	14. Visit to Blue Springs

When the snow fell, Blue Springs could have been any town in the region. A sea of white coated the mostly abandoned main streets, draping the shops and the parking lots with the same ivory blanket. If it weren’t for the sting of memory, Maggie might have easily have made a wrong turn down a similar street of two story houses, their mail boxes leaning out over the curb as if peering at something, their lights and nativity scenes frostily standing guard on front lawns and porches. 

She was bringing Jaime over to spend time with her aunt and uncle before the funeral. Oscar had practically begged Maggie for some time with the child before saying a final goodbye to Luisa and she'd agreed. They’d had a chilly, but mostly conflict free meeting with Waters and she needed some alone time to think things out, and decide whether or not it was truly the best thing for everyone if Jaime went on to live with the people who'd abandoned her at fourteen. Not that she knew what her other options were, but taking Jaime to National City to experience her own disfunction and neglect wasn’t one of them.

Her parents’ house was easy to spot. She’d been back exactly twice after Luisa and Dan had taken her in; once in an ill-judged attempt to talk to Maggie’s mother, and the next, to get the rest of her things. That’s when Maggie had discovered the photo album with her pictures removed. She’d opened it up, hoping to steal a remnant of the before and discovered that there wasn’t one. Not anymore. 

Elena had erased her from their past as easily as she wiped off the kitchen counter. 

“How are we doing?” Maggie asked.

Jaime sat quietly next to her in the front seat during the drive from Halterville. The child was staring ahead blankly, fiddling with that device again, that language, which reminded her she had yet to hear from Winn. She would contact him when she got back. Not tonight. Tonight, she was the alien. 

“You’ll need to put that away when we go inside,” Maggie said. 

Jaime didn’t answer at first. She switched off the device and after a minute said, “Maggie?” 

“Yeah?” Maggie said as they pulled up in front of the house. She let engine run. Neither of them was eager to go inside. 

“Why’d you leave?

Maggie paused, feeling herself tense. How did she answer that? It was likely a straightforward question and here Maggie was thinking about how to equivocate. She stared out at the snow, now reflecting back the moonlight like her own stubborn silence. “I needed more room,” she said.

____

____

“In National City?” Jaime said, scrunching up her face.

“Well,” Maggie said, feeling even more ridiculous, “In Metropolis. And then Gotham. And then National City.”

She steeled herself and out her hand on the door handle. “Let’s go kid. They’re waiting for us.” 

As they trudged through the snow to the door, Maggie wanted to run. Sure, she’d faced down her father in National City, had gained some enough closure with him to deal with him here. His behavior was at least predictable. Elena was another story. 

As she reached up to ring the doorbell she wished she had worn her leather jacket with the flask tucked inside. 

They waited for a brief instant before it opened. Then the sound of Christmas music greeted them with the warm lights of the living room, and several faces glanced up at them smiling. Or smiling at Jaime at least. 

“Well, isn’t she a dear!” said an elderly woman almost on cue. She was sitting next to Maggie’s mother, whose smile faded the minute she glanced up from Jaime to her estranged daughter. 

Elena Rodas, Maggie noted, had aged. Severely. The harsh Nebraska winters had simultaneously hardened and dulled her features so that her mother looked like an incomplete version of the woman Maggie once knew, once depended on for love and survival.

The older woman leaned towards Elena, lips pursing, as if to ask, ‘is that her?’ 

So, this was their strategy. They were throwing a Christmas party, a gathering of like-minded bigots to ensure that Maggie wouldn’t make a scene, and that Jaime would think everything was hunky dory. They were protecting Elena from her, as if that scared fourteen year old girl had, and still posed some kind of monstrous threat to the older woman. 

She reached over and gave Jaime’s shoulder a squeeze, saw Elena’s disapproving look. Like she was some kind of child molester and not the woman to whom Luisa had entrusted her own daughter. 

“It’s cold,” said Jaime. “Can we go in?” 

“Yes,” someone said. “Why don’t you?”

Maggie looked away from her mother, startlsd to see a thirty something woman with blonde hair holding the door open with mild annoyance. 

“I’m just here to drop off Jaime for the night,” Maggie said. She wasn’t going to push her way in, wasn’t going to dignify Elena with a scene.

“Well come in then,” the woman said. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

She had a look on her face, Maggie noted, as if she couldn’t stand the company either and was hoping for a diversion. 

Maggie glanced over at her mother cautiously, but Elena, after a brief cold stare, had turned back to the woman and continued chatting as if Maggie wasn’t there at all. 

“I’d better not,” Maggie said, feeling her voice hitch in her throat. She looked down at Jaime. “I’ll be here in the morning to get you for practice,” she said. 

Jaime looked at her uncertainty. “You sure?” 

“Yeah,” Maggie said. “Have fun.” 

Jaime gave a game look, as if about to finish the last bite of some particularly awful kind of vegetable and stepped inside. Maggie patted the girl’s head and passed her her overnight bag, then glanced up at the woman and avoiding Elena’s eyes, said, “Merry Christmas.” 

The woman smiled back, “Merry Christmas.” 

She was just getting into her car, when she heard the door open. She looked up and saw the blonde on the concrete steps close the door behind her; the light spilled onto the snow, narrowing into a small sliver of warmth that cut over the lawn. 

“I expected something different from what they’d said about you,” the woman said, pulling a cigarette pack from her pocket. “You know, you’re really not bad for a bogeyman.” 


	15. The Blob

After a day spent researching that creepy, ancient manuscript, Alex decided that maybe she’d go on the lighter side with the horror marathon she’d promised Jonathan. They started with two large meat lover’s pizzas and the old Steve McQueen version of _The Blob_ and continued on with popcorn and a decidedly Christmassy choice in _Curse of the Cat People_.

Eating with Jonathan was like eating with Kara just after she’d arrived at the Danvers’ household. His ability to shove down food was exacerbated by the fact that he was still growing, and as they watched the blob spill over from the projection window into a quickly emptying movie theatre, Alex remembered her battles with Kara at the dinner table— over leftovers, and the Halloween candy that hadn’t been claimed by the neighborhood kids. She always had to eat fast, in some situations, overstuffing herself with such rapidity that she got sick and threw it all up. Her Life Skills counsellor, the nosy Mrs. Nunez, even thought Alex had an eating disorder and called in Eliza for a meeting. Eliza denied it and Alex was mortified by the whole thing, but couldn’t be quite reassured that Eliza was telling Mrs. Nunez the truth. It was an eating disorder, kind of. A Kryptonian one. 

She learned other ways to cope, ordering things Kara didn’t like, putting habanero sauce on her popcorn and developing a taste for dill, to which all two Kryptonians she knew had an aversion. And Kara, once she settled into herself, lost the uncertainty and the trauma of being trapped in stasis for years on end. She learned to slow down, to meet her human companions with a little more ease. 

Jonathan was half earthling and a still had his parents. He was a little more courteous about not gobbling down the last piece of pizza, not that Alex could eat any more. 

The two of them sat on the warm carpet of Clark and Lois’s townhouse, with Goldie the Second, the Kents’ orange tabby curled up in Jonathan’s lap. It flicked its tail with irritation whenever the boy’s phone pinged, which was often. His phone had been doing that intermittently for the last hour or so, and each time he glanced at it, his expression became a little wanner. 

“Your friends okay?” Alex asked. She didn’t want to say anything directly. Clark had told her Jonathan had been pretty bummed out about not being able to go to the party. 

“Yeah,” Jonathan said. “Griff’s got this big backyard. So I guess they’re playing laser tag.” 

“Well,” Alex said, “we do that kind of thing at the DEO on a regular basis. I could take you into our sparring gym next time you come to National City. Show you around.”

The boy perked up slightly. “Really?” 

“Yeah. My boss would grumble over it, but he knows your Dad.” 

Jonathan grinned and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl. He started tossing the kernels in his mouth one by one. “That sounds like a lot of fun.” Then, to Alex’s dismay, he looked forlornly at his phone again. 

She certainly knew that feeling. She’d experienced it back before there were cell phone pictures around to taunt her, when Sophie and Vickie would go out of their way to tell her about the great parties they’d been to over weekends when Alex had been stuck at home with Kara. And Alex, too hadn’t been entirely innocent in that regard. After the Kenny Li incident, when she had fallen out with her clique and Vickie Donahue had willed up the guts to break with the pack and return to her, Alex had lapped it up and then treated her terribly. Something Vickie had said during a sleepover, about how she didn’t get the whole thing with making out, about how she’d be happy if she never had to do it again, stirred something in Alex, a sense of absolute terror. 

That night, when Vicky had wrapped an arm around her waist and nestled into her as they slept, that terror had turned into something more palpable and pleasant. Desire. Alex had lain there, basking in Vickie’s warmth, in the softness of the body pressed against her and held a hand over her own mouth to stifle her ragged breathing, the rightness she had never felt during those fumbling efforts with the boys at her school. 

The next day, Alex accepted a date with Ryan Foley and turned into the worst of those that had rejected her, that Vicky had thrown over for her—and she’d been, if not as miserable as the average high school student, at least a little dead inside. She snapped out of her reverie and looked over at the boy, caught a glimpse of the text. It was a photo: all the gang together having fun—without him. Whatever this Griff’s motives were, sharing wasn’t one of them. 

“Hey,” she said. “Do you like this Griff?” 

“Everyone else does.” 

“Do they?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan said. “It’s like he has everybody. He knows everyone. They all seem to like him when he’s there, but he isn’t very nice. When he’s mean to someone though other people don’t do anything about it. Like Jonas. He told Griff to stop picking on another kid and now nobody talks to Jonas. They’re all mean to him now at school. That’s why...” the boy paused. “That’s how I burned the Lego set.”

“You got mad,” Alex said. “And you lost control of your powers.”

“But it was in secret,” the boy said. “They were all out in Griff’s backyard. No one saw me.”

Alex nodded slowly. She thought for a moment and then grabbed a handful of popcorn, holding it up to him. “Remember how they beat the Blob?”

Jonathan squinted at her, then at the ball of popcorn she held up. “They fought it...together.” The boy said that last word with disappointment in his voice. "I'm kind of over here alone."

“Right," Alex said, "And even when they were all together, the army the police, what happened when they tried to fight it?” 

“It got bigger.” 

“Exactly,” Alex said. She picked up more popcorn from the boy and placed it on top of the pile in her hand. “Griff is the blob. He wants you to fight him or at least react to him by answering those texts. He wants you to show him that you're feeling left out. And when you ping back at him, he eats the attention and gets bigger. Get mad at him and he eats you or Jonas or that other boy he was picking on.” She glanced over at the phone. “You don’t fight the blob with fire. No heat vision. No texts. You’ve got--" 

"Freeze him out," Jonathan said. "Just like parasite."He took some popcorn from Alex's hand and she grinned at him. 

"Now you're talking," she said.

The phone buzzed again and the boy looked at Alex uncertainly. 

“Freeze it or feed it,” Alex said. 

Jonathan ignored the texts until the movie was over, but as Alex got up to take the bowls into the kitchen, she heard the boy call her from the living room.

“Alex?” the boy said. “It’s Danny. He says Griff disappeared from the party. He’s vanished.” 


	16. Seeing Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot gets plotty in Metropolis.

Alex hadn’t expected the night to go this way, with the boy worried over his arch nemesis, Griff instead of the Blob. She’d tried to convince Jon that usually missing persons cases resolved themselves within 24 hours, and that with his behavior, it was likely Griff had gotten into a fight with one of their mutual pals and was off in a snit somewhere. 

“I don’t like Griff much,” Jonathan said. “But I know him, and he doesn’t just up and leave. He watches.” 

Alex nodded, remembering Josie. “Likes to be in control, huh?” She patted the boy on the back. “I know the type. When your parents get back, we’ll talk to them. I promise.” 

Lois and Clark were back earlier than expected. Fifteen minutes later, in fact, Clark gently depositing Lois on the balcony of their townhouse to rap on the sliding glass door. 

_Damn,_ Alex thought. _. As she approached the glass, she saw that their expressions weren’t those of a couple who’d just had a relaxing night out on the town. They both looked serious, and Clark looked particularly dour for a man who shared Kara's sunny exterior._

_____ _

_____ _

“Thanks, Alex,” he said, as she slid open the glass door. “Hated to cut the evening short, but HoJ rang. They've picked up a strong Kryptonite signature in a storage unit off Flager's Hill."

“About ten miles from here," Alex noted. "I’ll contact J’onn,” Alex said, “Whose wi—“

Clark whipped into the bedroom he shared with Lois, changed into costume, and reappeared. 

“—us?” Alex finished her question. Jon interrupted it.

“Dad?” 

Clark held up a hand, then turned to Alex.Even with this intimate knowledge of his identity, his demeanor was entirely different. “Bat is in Gotham right now. Lantern’s on an interstellar mission and the others are dealing with Grodd in Central City. Diana is in, and we’ve got Morris and Watts as backup. Small team, I know, but the place doesn’t look very well guarded, at least from aerial surveillance. I’m going to have to stay some distance on this one, Alex. You alright with that?” 

“It's why I'm here,” Alex said. If it was a detectable signature from the distance Clark mentioned, then it was likely letting off more than enough radiation to kill him quickly and decisively if he got close enough. She’d make do. 

“Dad, Griff’s gone,“ Jonathan said.

“That’s right,” Alex said. She turned to tell Clark what had happened, but Lois had already scooped the boy up and was carrying him to his bedroom. She'd update Clark on the way there, keep her promise. 

An hour later, their makeshift strike team had slipped through the wire surrounding what clearly looked to be the movie definition of a toxic waste dump; it was centered by an encastlement of rusted out storage units and had long gone out of public use. The ground, save a few weeds that choked themselves up through the concrete, was devoid of life. Earth life, anyway. The place reeked of solvents and something stale and sour that made Alex want to gag and sneeze at the same time. Some of the more exotic booze at Dolly’s gave off those odors. 

She shrank into her collar, grateful she'd worn a hint of cologne that morning and went first, followed by Watts and Morris. The two Hoj agents seemed capable, despite the idiot she'd run into at the JLA security checkpoint, but she wished she had someone like Hu or Vasquez with her. The JLA was a rapidly evolving organization, and unlike the DEO, far less able to skirt interference from public opinion and government desk jockeys. Diana, for example, had been forced to hang back, and would only intervene if needed. Recently, a new swathe of red tape had tied up the Amazon, not to mention the Aquaman and some of the Lanterns in ridiculous restrictions. As foreign nationals, their operations clearance was now limited to rescue and self-defense. Diana was allowed to stop a crime in process, fight off a baddie who’d already attacked her or a civilian, but had no carte blanche to intervene. _Part of why I spend so much time in the research room, she’d explained_. And while Alex certainly enjoyed the company, utterly absurd. 

Alex ducked around the edge of the facility, signaling for Morris and Watts to follow. Something snapped in the distance and she held her hand up, sent the agents back into the shadows as she held a scanner over the lock to the storage unit. 

On the surface, it was your ordinary heavy duty padlock, but as Alex ran it under the light, she could easily see that the insides held the intricate technology of a Minzigi force shield. She inhaled and blew on the surface of the door, confirming her suspicions through the instant crackle and smell of ozone. An interloper would fry themselves if they tried to tamper with the lock. But why a force shield and no cloaking device? The Minzigi practically fed their world on weaponry and cloaking devices for interstellar warships. Why not cloak this place, especially if they were hiding something as volatile as Kryptonite?

She adjusted the light, beaming a cipher field over the padlock, head cocked as it whirred and snapped. No alarms sounded as the shield went down, at least not that she could hear. She signaled to Watts and Morris to move forward and then reached down to pull open the door to the unit the old fashioned way.

Bad idea. 

The first hostile cracked Alex over the shoulder, and she fell, taking a deliberate tumble as she pulled out her alien gun and dropped her assailant. But another two soon emerged from the shadows. They were tall and bendy, their limbs jointed like a spider's, and they smelled like moldering tea leaves. The taller one came at her with a long snakelike arm and Alex parried it with a baton. 

“Now's the time! Watts! Morris,” she yelled over the com, watching as the creature’s arm snaked around her ankle, yanking the baton from her hands. She fell to the ground, her ass smarting as she pointed her gun at the creature who stood silhouetted in the garish green light that shot through the slats in the boxes that surrounded them. "Hey! Need backup here!" The muffled sound of Morris yelping told her all she needed to know as something smacked her over the head. The next thing she heard was the crackling of gun fire, the piercing contact of steel against steel as a figure whirled in front of her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Alex and Maggie's story threads will begin to merge. Onward to Metropolis! And thank you for your kind encouragement and patience.


	17. Favorite Things

The alarm clock rattled Maggie from sleep. She bolted up, head pounding and blinked at the woman in bed next to her. Janet, was it? 

Janet had followed her outside after the snub from her family, and Maggie had stayed as she smoked her cigarette, knowing it was half a pretext. She asked about life in National City, talked about getting married young, then getting divorced when she’d caught the guy cheating, about how bored she was. And then Maggie, knowing it was likely a lousy idea, but smarting from the snub Elena had tossed her way, offered to continue their conversation in Halterville.

The woman had smiled demurely, her lip twitching slightly out of nervousness, and made an excuse. But less than twenty minutes after Maggie had returned to Luisa’s apartment and started in on the wine, she heard the light knock at her door. 

She remembered she’d made the first move, and this time, the kissing had been pleasant, albeit more of a relief than pleasure. Even though she and Alex had last slept together a little more than two months previous, it felt to Maggie like years, like that part of herself had gone beyond numb, but dead. On that thought, she pushed herself, just a little, and slipped her fingers under the waistband of the woman’s jeans. 

She was glad she’d remembered to set the alarm clock. She had to go right back and pick up Jaime for practice before the funeral—the girl was insistent that she not miss it—and Maggie suspected that Oscar and Luisa would take liberty with Jaime’s having spent the night. They’d act as if they had the girl already, even though Maggie had intimated nothing of her plans regarding custody. 

Always affectionate, even with one night stands, Maggie bent and kissed Janet on the forehead. The woman mumbled softly and rolled over, and Maggie slipped into the bathroom and showered; then after dressing, she left a note for Janet, thanking her for being 'The only friendly face in Blue Springs.'

It was Oscar who opened the door, his expression both sour and hesitant. 

“Margarita,” he said. 

Maggie answered with a nod. It didn’t feel right calling him Oscar, and Papa was out of the question. He was just a wraith to her, some shroud to a weak, delusory past that had once tried to swallow her up. 

“Jaime ready?” Maggie said trying to keep her voice level. 

Oscar tilted his head. “You think that's a good idea. Taking her to baseball practice the day of her mother’s funeral?”

Maggie felt her jaw tighten but she stayed composed. “It’s what she wants,” she said. 

“Your mother and I--”

“My mother…” Maggie said. The irony wasn’t lost on Oscar; he looked away and Maggie used that show of weakness as leverage. “If you want to play games and keep punishing me for living my life, that’s your prerogative. You don’t punish Jaime. She’s going to practice. Now where is she?”

Oscar’s nostrils flared, but he exhaled and stepped inside, muttering a few words to Elena. He wasn’t going to make a scene. There’d been a time when Maggie might have thought such decisions came from his hardline respect for the rule of law, but after National City, she knew he was just weak. He couldn’t stand to have the eyes of the town looking askance at him for any reason. 

Jaime, who’d clearly not changed plans, came to the door, bag in hand, and Maggie thought she could detect a hint of relief on the girl’s face. 

The drive was quiet for the first part and pleasant; Maggie, who was starving, made an exception to her usual dietary rules and and took them through a drive-thru. One egg McMuffin wouldn’t kill her, and Jaime seemed enormously pleased, asking for extra ketchup for her hash browns. 

“So,” Maggie said as they pulled out. “How was the party?”

“Stank,” Jaime said. She chewed on her food for a minute until she was able to speak. “I hate those kids there.” 

“Why?”

“They’re prissy!” Jaime said. She made her voice high and whiney. “‘Don’t say ‘stupid. It’s a bad word. Steven Universe is too weird.’ Blech.” 

Maggie let out a chuckle. This was the most talkative she’d seen the girl since her arrival.

“Yeah,” Jaime said. “Christmas over there makes me want to puke.”

Maggie did a double take at Jaime. She’d said that exact same thing to Alex about Valentines day less than six months back. “It’s hard to be the one with taste,” she said, a grin alighting on her face. 

“Sure is,” Jaime said. “You have taste, Maggie.”

“Oh? You trying flattery?”

Jaime nodded to the car radio, from which the alto sax of Coltrane’s _Favorite Things_ set pace to their drive. “Mama and Uncle Oscar always play ranchero music and country. But I like this.”

Maggie nodded appreciatively. “That's good.” 

When they got to the field, Jaime turned to Maggie. “Thanks for bringing me here. Should I come out front of the school?”

Maggie pulled a pair of gloves from the dash and nestled a wool scarf around her neck. “You know. I don’t have much to do around here. How about if I stay and watch?”


	18. Fool's Gold

The faint hum of the heart monitor stirred Alex from sleep. For a brief, beautiful instant, she thought she was back in the DEO med bay. Maybe if she opened her eyes slowly enough, she’d see Maggie standing by the bed, her back turned, shoulders tense with worry. She shoved down the thought and allowed herself to greet the reality. Fortunately, it wasn’t an unfriendly one. 

Kara was sitting by her bedside, her face drawn with concern, her hair mussed from a scuffle. She was in uniform and she smiled gamely as their eyes met. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Hey, you,” Alex rasped. “Flew by to say Merry Christmas?” 

Kara laughed, and that familiar sunniness returned with the relief in her eyes.

“You haven’t been out _that long_.”

“Eleven lords a leaping?” Alex said. 

“Or Trommites a fleeing,” Kara said. “You’ll be out in plenty of time to do some last-minute shopping. How are you feeling?” 

“Pretty...” Alex nodded slowly, “solid, I think.” Groggy from the anesthetic, she flexed her leg muscles under the blankets, wiggling her toes to make sure she still could. Then, slowly, she dragged a heavy arm from beneath the heat tech blanket to touch the thin bandage that had been pasted to her temple. Her face paled as the memory of the ambush returned to her. “Watts and Morris. Did they—” She tried to sit up, felt the blood rush to her head and sank back down on her pillow. “Oh...”

“Shhhh,” Kara reached over and smoothed her sister’s hair. “You’ve been out for eight hours. Diana pulled them out. Watts took some flak, but he’s okay. 

And _you_ had a bit of shrapnel in your shoulder, but they got it out. You got whacked pretty bad though, but no concussion. Docs said to just let you sleep it off.”

Kara reached behind her and pulled out a brown paper bag from her cape. The scent of fresh pastry and warmth from the oven suffused the air between them. “Best chocolate croissants in Metropolis, Clark swears on it.” 

Alex reached over and squeezed Kara’s hand. “I love you.” 

“You, too, sis,” Kara said, the levity leaving her expression. 

“Wait,” Alex lifted her head from the pillow and squinted. “Diana got them so how did _I_ get here?” 

“Clark,” Kara said. “Your attackers are also in a holding cell. The DEO and HOJ have decided to share on this one. We’re going to compare notes.” 

“Wait a minute, “Alex said. “How did Clark…that amount of green K would have killed him.” 

“It wasn’t Kryptonite.” 

“The two of them looked up to see Superman standing in the doorway. He nodded apologetically and stepped into the med bay. “The Zakkarians recruited the Trommites to create something that could emit a false and very powerful K signature.”

“Fool’s gold,” Kara said. 

Clark lifted his cape and took a seat next to Kara. “We’re not quite sure how they did it,” he said. “Labs at the DEO and the HOJ are analyzing the samples now, but what we are sure of is that it was a decoy.” 

“That’s why there was no cloaking device on the unit,” Alex said. Her head started to hurt all over again. _And why only a pitiful number of Zakkarian thugs were there to protect the supply._

“So,” Kara said. “Any idea of what the K was distracting us from?” 

Clark shook his head, his eyes searching. “Not yet, but if it involves green K, then ours,” he gestured to Kara, “were the eyes they were taking off the ball. And with the holidays,” he paused. “It’s just best to stay vigilant.” 


	19. Nebraska

Part of this was a kind of denial, Maggie knew, and she could see how some might interpret Jaime’s insistence on going to practice on the day of her mother’s funeral as extreme at the very least. But she also knew this had less to do with shoving down feelings than trying to honor Luisa in her own way. Jaime was an intuitive enough eight-year-old to have sensed that her mother wasn’t well, and likely had gleaned a lesson in Luisa’s own drive to press on, keep going despite whatever adversity had thrown her way. When Maggie had been abandoned by her parents in Blue Springs, and ostracized at her school, Luisa always encouraged her to tough it out. Not insensitively, but gently, in a way that made Maggie think there might be a higher purpose to the main she was going through.

“If you give up, they win,” Luisa told her when Maggie had returned from school forcing back tears or a sore lip from a fight. “You're meant for better things. They can feel that. Don’t back down.”

Maggie remembered these words now with a shock of recognition. Hadn’t Alex told her that Eliza had something similar to her when she’d come out to her?

So, Maggie sat there on the bleachers, rubbing her hands together in the cold and watching Jaime play. The kid was good--as in Maggie could foresee a college scholarship good. She could catch the spin on the curveballs, Talbot—now not pulling her throws— hurled at her, and she was a fast runner. Maggie found herself shouting from the bleachers in tune with that scattering of otherparents. Despite the cold and her preference for football and shootouts, she was actually enjoying this. 

It was halfway through practice when it happened. A little redhead hit a fly ball, seemingly a sure thing, as it made a direct trajectory towards Jaime’s position in left field. The parents and Jaime’s teammates cheered excitedly, but something was wrong. Jaime wasn’t scurrying meet it, wasn’t lifting her mitt to the sky. She was standing in the field, her arms at her sides, her head tilted up, but in the other direction. 

“Come on, Sawyer!” the girls shouted.

Jaime didn’t react as the ball dropped to the ground a mere three feet behind her. She hadn’t even ducked.

Coach Anderson threw off this hat and made a beeline for the field, and Maggie did likewise, hurrying down the bleachers toward the fence. As she got closer, she could see Jaime’s eyes were focused on that elsewhere place again. Her lips were moving, quickly and silently. 

The other girls were alternating between yelling and grumbling now. 

“Freak,” yelled a dark haired kid who'd been in the dugout the entire game.

“She’s doing it again,” Maggie heard someone say. She was halfway across the field when Jaime came to. Anderson’s face was ashen as he placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders. He was trying to talk to her, but it was as if time had stopped. Then Jaime, as if suddenly reactivated, raised her glove and started scanning the sky for the ball that had long dropped behind her. 

“Slow!” someone yelled.

Jaime blinked, glancing about wildly as the other kids laughed. Anderson gently pushed Jaime towards Maggie, who slipped an arm around her. 

“You okay?” she said. 

Jaime shoved her arm away. “Why are you out here? You distracted me.”

Anderson locked eyes with Maggie, his face stricken with worry. “I think you’d better take her home now,” he said. 

Maggie nodded. She placed a more tentative hand on the girl’s shoulder. “It’s time we headed out. We need to change. Go get your things okay?”

Jaime didn’t answer, but she did was she was told. Maggie could tell from the girl’s expression, from the pallor of her cheeks, that she was terrified of what had just happened to her. 

“Thanks,” Maggie said to Anderson. She hurried away from him across the field and fished her phone from her pocket. The right person answered. 

“Winn?” she said. 

“Maggie!” Winn said, “Heeeyyy!” The words were jokey, but there was something anxious in the agent’s voice.

“You get anything on those symbols I sent you?”

She heard Winn fumbling with the phone as he moved away from the central command. “Um…yes,” he said, “his voice lowered. And honestly, it’s more than a little freaky.”

“How so?”

“I couldn’t find it in the DEO database. It matched none of the scripts or linguistic algorithms of the languages currently in use in the inhabited systems. Did a cross reference with mathematical codes and symbols and came up short, until I found a…scrap of something.”

“Of what?” Maggie looked up to see Jaime hoisting her bag out from the dugout. She was walking toward her, looking more dazed now than scared.

“Well, I cross referenced it with ancient texts and found what I’m pretty sure is a close match, at least conspicuous enough to be worrying. This thing is tucked away, Maggie. I mean, buried deep. Not just in the archives, but in temporality. It's ancient. We’re talking early post Big Bang, pre-language ancient.”

A chill rustled through her and Maggie felt her throat tighten. “I owe a round Schott. More than that."

“Um,” Winn said, forcing the levity back into his voice. “If you don’t mind my asking. Where in the name of Midichlorians did you find this?” 

Maggie’s face darkened as she looked up at Jaime. “Nebraska.”


	20. Accounting for Alchemy

Despite Kara and Clark’s protests, Alex was up and working in the HOJ lab three hours after she’d woken up in sick bay. Her body still felt heavy, and the cut on her forehead smarted a little, but it was better to be working, and she was grateful, despite the circumstances to have some time with Kara. 

She set the computer to break down the false Kryptonite samples on a molecular level, altering the program to account for outside influences, such as extradimensional portal warping and alchemy. The text Diana had given her had set her on edge, and while she wasn’t sure if there was a connection between the Zakkarian Kastagli drug and mystical influences, she had a hunch that it was time to throw everything at the wall. 

Kara ducked her head into the lab. “How are things going?” she asked. 

“Fine,” Alex said. She did a double take as she took in her sister. Kara wasn’t in uniform, but a long black evening gown, the kind she’d worn when she was under the influence of Red Kryptonite, and her make-up was slightly thicker, sultrier. Kara laughed before Alex could say anything. 

“Christmas party at the Daily Planet. Clark said I could hobnob, make some connections, and all you can eat canapes. Come on. We’re going out.” 


	21. Part of a Messed-up Whole

Maggie knew Luisa was well-liked in the community, but she didn’t expect the sheer number of people who turned out for her aunt’s funeral. She held Jaime’s hand as they waded through the throng of townspeople, everyone from local cops, to teachers, to the people she bought coffee from every morning on the way to work. It looked as if the entire town of Halterville was in mourning. 

They were barely on time for the service, the incident at Jaime’s practice having slowed them down a bit. She kept her eyes to the ground as she hurried Jaime to her seat in the row reserved for family, although she could feel both Oscar and Elena’s eyes on her, their disapproval. As she sat, she felt a hand gently squeeze her shoulder and turned back to see Janet, who mouthed a ‘you okay?’ 

Maggie smiled warmly and nodded, and as she returned her attention to the pastor, she caught her mother’s critical gaze. What was Elena imagining? She probably thought Maggie had branded Janet with a ‘G’ on her backside during the night. The thought made her want to chuckle a little, which surprised her. Elena’s rejection still hurt, but the effort she and Oscar were putting in to stay mentally sequestered in the 1950s verged on comical. Not verged. Screeched over the edge of a cliff like Buzz in Rebel Without a Cause. 

She bit her lip to stifle the mirth in her expression. She had mourned Luisa in her own way, just as Jaime was doing now, but it wouldn’t do to seem openly disrespectful. When the service was over, she’d get Jaime out of here. Take her for a long drive, maybe to see the Christmas lights over on Tarleton Hill. 

There would be no talk about the next step. She’d wait a few more days, until after Christmas, until she was certain Jaime had settled back into herself. Then, maybe it would be okay. Waters had been almost apoplectic when she’d told him. She would negotiate with Oscar, let them take custody of Jaime as long as Maggie got her in the summers. 

“Detective Sawyer,” Waters had said, when they met in his office. He shook his head, his brows knitting in confusion. “This is exactly what your aunt wanted to avoid.” 

“My aunt really didn’t know me well enough to judge,” Maggie said. 

“Really?” Waters said, sputtering in disbelief. “You're just going to leave her with them? After what they did to you?” 

Maggie held up her hand. “Don't really need a reminder, Dan. Look, I’m in no shape to bring up a kid. I’m a serial monogamist, have been described by one of my partners as a workaholic sociopath, oh and the last one just called off our engagement because of my unwillingness to be a parent, so I think I’m the one who gets to make the call.” 

There was a brief stunned silence and Waters took in her words. 

"Besides. I think my parents have learned their lesson, not with me, maybe. But I doubt they’d treat Jaime the same way.” 

The attorney sighed and folded his hands. “Detective, whatever your personal issues are, I don’t care to hear them--"

"You brought them up."

He held up a hand. 

"If I might add, that wasn’t the only reason Luisa wanted you to take Jaime,” he said. “Halterville…Blue Springs…” he gestured out the window to the empty parking lot, just across the way was a row of boarded up shops, “they’re limiting.”

“I understand that,” Maggie said. “That’s why I’m agreeing to take her in the summers, whenever I have leave. I’ll make sure she sees a bit of the world, gets out of here and into a good school if that’s what she chooses. I’m more than happy to support her in that capacity.” 

This conversation, of course, had happened before her talk with Winn. However much she justified the decision to leave Jaime with her parents, there was potentially another danger, and one that raised her hackles even more. But for now, she’d give the kid Christmas while she was figuring out just what it was that had unsettled her and the DEO agent as well. She’d ask Jaime more questions about Skyhook’s program and that code she was working with, maybe even shoot the program over to Winn if he wasn’t busy visiting his Dad in prison. They were a messed-up bunch, those Superfriends, and she had once been part of their beautiful, albeit messed up whole. 

She felt something brush against her arm and glanced down to see Jaime grasping at the sleeve of her coat. Maggie shifted and took the child’s hand, feeling the girl’s grip tighten. Sensing the girl was already under enough scrutiny by the others in attendance, she kept her gaze forward. She remembered those times, when it was bad, and one look or word of sympathy would start the tears. Jaime didn’t need that. 


	22. Kate Kane

The Planet party wasn’t as lavish as a Catco event, but it was far more populated than anything she’d been to in National City. Alex, champagne in hand and dressed in the bullet proof dress she’d once worn on a ‘date’ with Maxwell Lord, made her way through a crowd of journalists, bankers, and political hopefuls. The guests were dressed anywhere from formal to jeans and ties, giving the atmosphere a kind of loose comradery that felt warmer than a lot of gala events she’d attended in the past. As soon as they entered, Kara had made a beeline for the buffet table and Alex gauged by the time she covered the same distance, that half of the food would be gone. 

She spotted Lois at the other end of the room. She was talking with a handsome, well-dressed man in gray suit. He reminded her of Lord, she thought distastefully, but his features were paler and more vulpine. He looked familiar as well, and as she moved forward through the crowd for a better look, someone bumped her arm, causing her drink to slosh over the glass. 

“I’d apologize, but I think you’re the one at fault.” 

Alex glanced up to see a stunning red-headed woman staring her down, her expression pleasantly catty. 

“Excuse me?” Alex said. 

“I mean, you should be drinking that faster,” the woman said. “It’s Bollinger. My cousin supplied it for this shindig. Teetotaling would be a tragic mistake on your part.” The woman downed her own glass, then reached over and grabbed a bottle from a bucket held by a passing waiter, refilling Alex’s glass. “Kate Kane,” she said, obviously relishing the effect of the name drop. 

“Alex Danvers.” Alex gratefully took the glass and tossed it back. “F.B.I.” 

The other woman smiled with a mix of appreciation and suspicion. “Off duty, I presume,” she said, topping off Alex’s glass again. 

Alex nodded, remembering how this scenario had played out with Sara Lance, and sipped this time. “Kate Kane as in Kane Industries,” she said. “Cousin of Bruce Wayne.” 

“Give this girl an A,” Kane said. “And you’re DEO.” 

Alex choked on her drink this time, and the woman patted her on the back, allowing her hand to rest on her shoulder. Alex regained her composure and laughed. “DEO doesn’t exist.” Alex said. “I don’t know what it is with you billionaires and making up extra bogeymen. It’s like you can’t quite grasp that we simple Feds can get the work done. Still upset about Marsdin raising the corporate tax rate?” 

Kate jammed her tongue in her cheek and slipped her arm through Alex’s, steering her away from the crowd. Her answer, Alex thought, was much shallower than she had anticipated, and more than a bit of an act. “I just wanted to see you riled up is all,” Kane said. 

Alex shook her head slowly. "It'll take more than that." 

Alex felt the woman’s fingers stroking her arm and caught her breath as Kane took a step closer.

“Alex Danvers. A simple girl from Midvale. Rescued those kids from Slaver’s Moon, singlehandedly--or almost singlehandedly—pulled a Hoshin Frigate carrying thousands of registered aliens from a light speed jump.” She sighed with mock pity and purred, “I have no faith in you _what…so…ever_.”

She released Alex from her grip and clinked her glass against the agent’s, who downed her own immediately. Kane's smile was warmer now, but edged with an infuriating smugness. 

“Who _are_ you?” Alex said. 

Kane leaned in close, her breath warm and smelling of cherries. “I’d be more than happy to show you,” she whispered, and Alex felt her face go hot. “But first, I’d like some information on your Zakkarian problem.”

“Alex!” 

The two women sprang apart guiltily as Lois approached them. “I’m so glad you made it.” She touched Alex’s arm, which the agent swore still stung with the heat from Kate Kane’s grip. 

“Hi Lois,” Kane said. 

“I’m good,” Alex said. “Really…good. You know each other, I take it.” 

“It’s Lois’s job to know everybody,” Kane said. 

Lois laughed uncomfortably. She placed a hand on Kane’s arm. “And this one here, it’s not a job, but she manages anyway.” 

“I can see that,” Alex said, and smiled inwardly as Kane raised an eyebrow. 

Lois turned and tugged the handsome bronze haired man into their group. “Alex, this is Alistair Tierney of Skyhook.” 

Alex’s mouth sprung open. “Oh…I thought I recognized you.” She put her glass down and reached out to shake his hand. Tierney took it and pulled it to his lips, which were cold Alex noted, cold enough to bring her own temperature back to normal. _Could I be any gayer?_ she thought. “My sister Kara was just telling me she’d met you in National City.” 

A flash of displeasure crossed his features. “Kara Danvers?” he said. “Is she here?” 

“Yes, she is. She is wherever the food is,” Alex said. “And the story.” 

“I think I’ve learned that about her,” Tierney said. 

Kate Kane’s phone pinged and she slipped it from her handbag. “I’ve got to be going,” she said. Then she plucked her card from a handbag and pressed it into Alex’s hand. “Call me,” she said. “We’ve got _a lot_ to talk about.” 


	23. Brief Encounter

When the service was over, Maggie went to warm up the car, leaving Jaime to share condolences with Oscar and Elena. Only Elena was standing in front of Maggie’s car, a lone figure in a long, dark coat, her face taut with a combination of pride and uncertainty. 

Maggie didn’t mean to say it, but it came out anyway. “Mama?” She approached the car slowly, keys in hand, in an almost defensive position. 

“How are you, Margarita?” the voice was warm although the face said otherwise. It was as if no time had passed, as if Elena’s erasure of her had itself been wiped away. She'd obviously been waiting there for awhile. She was shivering, her shoulders tense and her hands in her pockets.

Maggie’s lips parted to respond, but how did one respond to this? To this question after sixteen years of silence? “I’m…I'm fine." She paused and averted her eyes, taking a measured breath. "And you, Mama? I’m so sorry about Tia Luisa. You must miss her very much.” 

It happened so quickly, Maggie didn’t have time to register it. Luisa’s arms wrapped around her estranged daughter, the old woman’s dark hair, now thickly streaked with grey, pressed against her cheek as she sobbed into Maggie's shoulder. Maggie felt her chest heave with a strange mix of awkwardness and emotion. On one hand, this was her mother, so familiar, and yet Maggie also felt in some ways similar to how she did when negotiating with a hostage taker or a threatened suicide. 

“Margarita,” Elena said. She clung to her more tightly, repeating her name. 

“Mama...Mother,” Maggie said. She reached up and cupped Elena’s face, forcing the older woman to look her in the eyes. "It's me." 

The woman’s face was vulnerable now, etched with pain and regret; a far cry from the cold stare Maggie had received the night before. 

“Mother,” Maggie said again, stumbling over the word that was less familiar, but more suited to the situation. “If you want to talk. To catch up…Maybe we could—” 

The sound of other voices descended on them and Maggie felt her mother stiffen. She pulled away from Maggie, almost forcefully, as people started trickling through the lot toward their cars. 

“Mama,” Maggie said, her mind reeling with confusion, a sense of loss successfully fought off, but now regained within a single moment of indiscretion. Elena wasn't even looking at her now; she was nodding to the guests as they passed, her posture rigid and formal. Just then Janet approached from the other direction and her stoicism turned to clear disgust. 

“Mrs. Rodas,” Janet said, smiling tentatively. “Maggie.” She paused, her face going pale as she saw the other woman's now stricken expression. Elena was turned away from her now. She nodded to Janet and walked steadily back to where the service had been held. 

“I am so sorry,” Janet said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

“You didn’t do anything,” Maggie said, quickly thumbing away a tear. “But it’s more than time I got out of here.” 

Janet nodded sympathetically and pressed her arm. It was a brief touch, meant to reassure rather than make any demands. “I’ll go find Jaime,” she said. 


	24. Missing

Waters shot Maggie a dour look as she stepped into his office. _Here it comes_ , she thought: the lecture about Jaime’s custody, her lost opportunities, the questions about Maggie’s own personal issues with Oscar and Elena. It was getting hard enough for her to leave the girl behind as it was, but the heaviness she felt at the thought of losing perhaps her closest connection since breaking up with Alex, let her know it was the right decision. 

Could she really see herself hunting down the right school, wrangling babysitters while she tried to solve the latest murder of a Helgrammite drug kingpin, much less go on a date? Not to mention there were dangers: In her line of work there was no question that Jaime might lose her as quickly she had lost Luisa, and those dangers would extend to the child, too. She remembered one night when Trish, a junkie prostitute from Formaulhaut-B, had come pounding on her door in the middle of the night, followed by a huddle of her Ergresshian pimps, all packing thermal nitrubian charges and venomous talons. She’d let the woman through the door and called for back-up as they scratched and paced outside her door. Whatever Oscar and Louisa’s issues were,she knew that dangerous aliens would be far worse option for an eight-year-old. That thought sent her mind back to Alex. 

What kind of fantasy world had Danvers been living in? The idea that the two of them could continue doing the work they did, living the lives they lived with children was an absurdity. Maybe Alex thought she’d always be protected by Kara, or maybe partially raising Kara had given her an overdose of confidence. However much Maggie had faith that most aliens were hardworking beings who just wanted to get along, like their human counterparts, they had their nasties too, nasties she and Alex had to deal with on a near daily basis. Alex knew this, she'd been through rough times and had lost her father in the process, but she'd still grown up in relative privilege, one that became all the more apparent the more time Maggie spent apart from her. 

Maggie swallowed as she took a seat across from Waters and looked him in the eye, determined that this next guilt trip would be the last. In her hand was a plastic bag containing a late Christmas present for the girl, a Mizuno outfielder's glove that she hoped the kid would like. Jaime was using Dan Sawyer's old glove, which despite being from his own days in Little League, was too big for the girl's hand. 

“Thanks for coming in so quick,” Waters said. “Two days after Christmas. I’ve got some new information that you’re going to want to hear.” 

“Let’s have it,” Maggie said. 

Waters smiled and looked down at a file on the desk in front of him, ran his thumbs along the edges of the manila paper. 

“I respect your desire not to take full custody of Jaime, Detective. I really do. But I want you to know I just got word from Ray Litchfield down at the Gage county courthouse that Oscar Rodas has been down there sniffing around.” 

Maggie shrugged. “He’s a cop. What’s so unusual about that?” 

Waters leaned forward to looked her in the eyes. “He’s not working on a case. He’s planning to sue for full custody rights of Jaime.” 

Maggie tilted her head. “Wait. I don’t see why he’d do that. I’m letting them raise her.” 

Waters leaned back in his chair and let out a belly laugh that managed to both cut the tension and create more of it. Maggie watched him with a mix of irritation and shock as he clutched at the cave of a stomach on his lanky form and shook his head. 

“For a cop you’re damned trusting, Sawyer,” Waters said, wiping a tear away with a knuckle.

His face was red and full of mirth and Maggie hadn’t wanted to hit someone this hard in a very long time. “Rodas is waiting for you to sign over physical custody rights. Once you do that and you’re out of state he’s going to file for full custody. Your leaving Jaime in Blue Springs is going to give him all the legal heft he needs. You’re walking into it.” 

Walking into it, Maggie thought. Just like she’d done when she’d invited Oscar to her shower only to have him make a scene and run out on her. She squeezed the bag in her hand and felt the reassuring roughness of the mitt under the thin plastic. Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

The text was from Winn. _Serious casting the runes stuff here. Contact me ASAP_ , it read. 

She glanced up to see Waters staring her down, his face calm and composed. “It’s your move, Maggie.” 

Maggie felt her throat go dry. Years and miles spread out in front of her, of ugliness, of legal battles, of tangling with a return to the shame she hadn’t earned, and the shame she would just by putting Jaime through this. She took a breath, was going to speak, but her phone buzzed again. It was from an unidentified number and Maggie felt an inexplicable rush of panic course through her. 

“I - I have to take this,” she said. 

“Take your time,” Waters said with an unruffled gentlemanliness that infuriated her even more. 

She put the phone to her ear and said, “Sawyer,” marveling at the thinness of her voice. 

“Detective Sawyer? This is Bill Anderson. Jaime’s coach.” 

“Yeah Bill. Everything okay?” 

“I hope so. Is Jaime with you?” 

She’d dropped Jaime off at practice just a few hours ago. “No, she isn’t, Bill.” 

Anderson’s brief silence told her all she needed to know. “Jaime went to the changing room. Said she was going to change her socks. They’d gotten soaked in a snowbank on the way in. She uh, didn’t come back. Thought you might have come and picked her up early.” 

“When was this?” Maggie said, failing to hide the anger in her voice. 

“About thirty minutes ago,” Anderson said, his voice shaking. “That’s my fault. We were doing a practice game and I waited until the inning was out.”v 

“You search the school?” 

“We’re doing that now,” Anderson said. “But the main building's locked up. No chance she’s gotten inside.” 

“Call the police,” Maggie said. “Get directly in contact with Oscar Rodas. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”


	25. Portal Residue

Alex met Kate Kane in a small dive bar called Raffino’s in the Deacon district of Metropolis. It reminded her of one of those shame-ridden hovels in the pulp novels she’d sneak read at the Midvale flea market. She stumbled upon a rack of those worn yellow paperbacks one summer and remembered glancing nervously over her shoulder as she puzzled over the implied meaning of ‘twilight world’ and ‘a love spoken in whispers.’ Was it a reference to one of those other dimensions Kara had told her about? Some secret alien language? The covers, with their curvy women in bright make up and suggestive poses, belied her real curiosity. 

She remembered hiding the books between the pages of an old magazine as she flipped through them. She told herself she was just amusing herself, being ironic, like the boys at school who wore the Ed Hardy T-Shirts and pretended to like Neil Diamond. _Just a bored girl in a Podunk seaside town_ , she thought, mimicking their cover blurbs, but her hands shook as she read about those women in back bedrooms, WAC military barracks, and Greenwich village bars. That summer, she must have spent hours perusing those moldering shelves, never once drawing forth the courage to approach the counter and purchase a single copy, which at 25 cents a pop was half the original 50 cent cover price. 

Likely, if Kate Kane knew so much about her DEO adventures, she was also likely to know that Alex was just a little past ‘fresh-off-the-boat.’ Maybe this dive was a joke, either meant to catch her up or catch her off guard. Her suspicions were confirmed when the waiter led her to a table in a far, dark corner of the room, raising an eyebrow as he saw Kane sitting there alone. She’d seen that same look on Darla’s face when Maggie first took her to Dolly’s. Kane was a player; she’d heard and seen enough of that in the tabloids and Alex was the next round—or so she wanted it to look.

“I took the opportunity to order for you,” Kane said, giving Alex a once over. The agent had dolled herself up, more she told herself, because she didn’t know what to expect from the place rather than Kane. Her forwardness might have seemed predictable if Alex had had more experience. 

I heard you like scotch,” Kane said, “I’ve always been more of a gin gal myself.” 

“Your loss,” Alex said, taking a seat. Kane reached across the table and took the agent’s hand, rather ostentatiously, she thought until the waiter disappeared. Her fingers, despite some scarring on the knuckles were alarmingly soft. Then she let go. 

“This place,” Kane said in explanation, “is usually a little more discrete.” 

“Why am I here?” Alex said with a slight measure of irritation in her voice. If Kane’s socialite persona was an act, she wanted to cut through it as soon as possible; if it wasn’t, she wanted to leave, preferably before they’d finished their first drink. Kane was brutally attractive and liked her booze, a brand new weakness Alex had recently discovered on Earth-1.

“Right. Let’s get on with things, shall we?” Kane gave her a look of playful disappointment and pulled out her tablet, bringing up an image of two children-- a boy and a girl, about seven. Both looked underfed with sharply intelligent eyes and hundred-yard stares. “Ian and Mikaela Dagistan,” she said. “Refugees from Margravia. Wards in one of the children’s homes funded by Kane industries. Parents died crossing the border into Turkey. My father, Jacob Kane, extracted them during a crossfire on the Black Sea. You may have heard about that dust-up.” 

She had. Militant anti-alien groups had rushed the outlying villages in Margravia, a small, newly independent country on the Turkish-Bulgarian border, summarily executing everyone who had alien blood. Word was their arms had been supplied by Cadmus, who’d branched out to warlords and would-be dictators in the region. The DEO had cooperated with Jacob Kane on several deep cover missions into that territory and rescued hundreds, many of them children. 

“Horrible,” Alex said. “But that’s in Gotham. Kids go missing there all the time.”

“Pretty cynical for a woman who purports to love children,” Kane said. 

Alex felt her eyes smart. “You’ve done your homework on me,” she said, “Get to the point.” 

“Gladly,” Kane said, her voice clipped. She brought up more photos. “Rene Belasco and Stacy Beltran, not from my home this time, both athletes at Markowitz Elementary in Wainborough right outside of Gotham. Then there’s William Chen of Tidwell Heights, a neighbor kid, and Kendra Lamarr of Fairview, Indiana, a child prodigy with a severe case of attention deficit disorder.” As Kane continued to rattle off the list of names, in various spots throughout the country, Alex began to feel a cold, sick sensation in the pit of her stomach. Jonathan’s frenemy Griff was still missing, and even Clark was surreptitiously involved in the search, with both of the Kent men doing aerial scans of the city. 

“What’s different about these cases?” Alex asked. “Why the need for DEO involvement?” 

Kane looked up from her tablet and leaned back to regard her; her gaze was penetrating. “So, you are DEO.”

“I never said that,” Alex said, reaching up to twist a lock of hair around her finger. She had so wanted to write off Kate Kane as just another bored rich kid trying to spice things up by playing secret agent, but she knew now that this was not where it was leading. 

Kane switched off her tablet and reached over to take Alex’s hand, pushing it back down on the table. The two women went silent as the waiter brought their drinks and this time Kane didn’t let go when he disappeared. Kane took a deep breath and said, “I was close to Ian and Mikaela. Thought about adopting them.” Her eyes met Alex’s and lingered for a moment. “My Dad has a soft spot for them as well. So, when they went missing, I took up the investigation on my own. I looked at their files, looked for other disappearances and similarities, and took samples at the sites where they’d gone missing. In a lot of the investigations, forensics had been minimal if the police had seen fit not to brush it off as a custody dispute or runaway in the first twenty-four hours.” She squeezed Alex’s hand and took a long pull of her gin. “I didn’t find blood or hair. But something even you might find interesting, residues of Bysharrri radiation.” 

Alex straightened, her hand reaching absently for her scotch glass. This was the same residue they’d found at the storage facility where she’d just been whacked. “Portal discharge,” she said. 

Kane nodded and let her fingers interlace with the agent’s. “Bingo. Found the same residue at every site of disappearance. And something else: most of these kids were in special run programs, they were the smart kids who needed a little help, or something different, not because they lagged behind, but usually because they were too far ahead. ” 

Alex sipped at her Scotch, it had just the right amount of smokiness and Kane’s touch was oddly comforting, even as the horror of her words sank in. The two women regarded each other over the candlelight. “And the people who have a monopoly on Bysharrr portal technology are…”

“The Zakkarians,” Kane said. “More specifically Zakkarian castagli smugglers. Something tells me that the two have much more of a— “

“--connection than just being general slime balls,” Alex said. 

Kane laughed lightly and ran her thumb over the back of Alex’s hand. “You see?We’re already finishing each other’s sentences.” 

Alex felt her face go hot. She cleared her throat as Kane lifted her glass and tapped it lightly against the agent’s, her lip curling mischievously as she noted Alex’s agitation.

“But...” Kane said, “let’s put our heads together on this _first_.” 


	26. Tracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the update lag. Was on a nine hour flight across the Pacific.

Oscar Rodas had overridden the 24-hour wait. His squad, dulled by the lull of the holidays amid the perpetual dullness of a town of 3,400 people, was more than happy to oblige. He and Maggie had searched Jaime’s school, the sparse scattering of parks, and the Mega Foods where teenagers were known to congregate at the food court. In the last twelve hours, they’d turned up little more than a fresh supply of bitterness between them, with Oscar even trying to strong arm Maggie off the search until she’d pulled rank with the federal jurisdiction she’d been granted by the DEO. That magical I.D. in her wallet wasn’t as fancy as Alex’s, but it did open doors.  


That hadn’t stopped Oscar from taking a jab or two when he could.  
“You shouldn’t have dragged her to practice,” he said. “Letting her go off in her state. She needed to be with family.”  


“I’m family,” Maggie said.  


“Do you even know what that means?” Oscar said.  


“Do you?” Maggie said. She stopped herself. There was so much more she could say, but instead she held up a hand to silence him. “Let’s talk semantics later, Papi.” 

They were edging up on an abandoned bus depot on an equally forsaken road between Halterville and Blue Springs. It had once served both towns until more people started filtering out than coming in. It was a hangar-like structure with a rusted roof, punctured with bullet holes and half sunken in from the weight of too many snows. Staring out at the blinding white emptiness, even in the thick of winter darkness, reminded her of the barren alien landscapes Alex and Kara had told her about. She suddenly found herself reframing her narrative.  


She used to think she was from Mars--that had been an apt metaphor for being gay and brown in this redneck shithole-- but maybe it was this place that was foreign, with its cold and its rigidly polite loneliness, so relentlessly unforgiving to anyone who went against its customs. Was that why Jaime had taken off that morning? She _had_ walked in on Maggie during a tense exchange with Oscar over the phone, but that had been before Waters had dropped the bomb regarding the custodial sneak attack. Jaime had seemed so eager to get back to her life, and Maggie hadn’t wanted to say anything until the papers were signed; then she was going to give the kid the ‘good’ news, that Jaime could finish out school here and maybe visit Maggie during the summers. Despite Luisa's confidence in her, she hadn’t sensed any emotional attachment to her on the child’s part, but maybe she’d been wrong. For a detective, she could be surprisingly slow on the uptake when it came to how others thought or felt about her. She remembered Alex mimicking her about the night she’d sent her off in tears. “’Are we cool?’" she'd said, gleefully exasperated. "I can’t believe you _actually_ said that right after ripping my heart out. ‘Are we cool? I can just see you taking on Metallo.’” Alex reached out and pretended to rip out Maggie's heart. "I know your heart is made of Kryptonite and you like, need it to live and all, but 'are we cool?'”  


Maggie had laughed good-naturedly and called herself an idiot, but something about that playful exchange troubled her personally and professionally. She was good at reading other people, she wouldn’t have gotten this far in her career if she couldn’t, but when it came to seeing herself through others’ eyes, her perceptions were skewed. It was as if her parents’ rejection of her, combined with Eliza Wilkey’s betrayal, had permanently warped her reflection of herself. Maybe Jaime was counting on her more than she knew. And maybe she had blown it. Again.   


Guilt torqued up inside of her, but she pushed it down, took a deep breath of that sharp, freezing air and proceeded toward the depot, her flashlight drawn. Oscar was behind her, treading carefully as if he was studying some animal in its habitat. He’d been impressed by her cases, had been keeping tabs on her all those years without a word. It had been Maggie who had suggested searching the old depot and now, even as he berated her, even as he second-guessed her decisions, her father was watching her every move with a strange mix of professional jealousy and familial pride.  


His men had fanned out around the area, the beams of their flashlights made casting streaks of cold white light over the tundra. Maggie flicked her own light over the rear door to the depot. As she had suspected, the lock had long been shot off by squatters or meth heads. She turned back and nodded to her father for back up, then turned the knob and dug her shoulder into the heavy door. It pushed forward with a loud, metallic groan. 

“Cover me,” she said.

Oscar nodded and stepped behind her, ready to draw his gun.

What a fucked-up situation, Maggie thought. That I can trust him now, with this. 

There was nothing inside but the cracked concrete floor, tinctured by moonlight and sheets of ice from the water that had dripped in from the ceiling. “Place is clear!” she called to Oscar, and he leaned out the door and shouted at his men to follow as he stumbled inside.

“Well,” he said. “You tried. Perhaps your instincts don’t work out here.”  
Maggie held her hand up to silence him. There was something off about the air in here. It was oddly warm, and as she got further inside, she could smell it, the remainder of fresh exhaust fumes.  


“Key’s always in the mundane, right?” she said more to herself than to her father, just as the beam from her flashlight illuminated the newly made tire tracks leading out toward the entrance. She stepped closer and examined the trailing lines in the dust. “Looks like a good-sized van or a bus,” Maggie said. “Someone’s just left this place. And likely they had passengers.”


	27. Batwoman

“C’mon, Kane,” Alex whispered into her phone. “Pick up.”

Alex mouthed a curse at the silence from the other end. She’d spoken to Kate Kane over three hours ago, after confirming that Jon Kent’s nemesis Griff also fit the same criteria for missing persons. Now, she, Lois, and Jon were hiding behind a dumpster, while a Hellgrammite flailed and lurched drunkenly around an alleyway behind Griff’s parents’ brownstone. She’d felt guilty for setting the boy’s concerns aside, and now, it truly seemed they were connected to whatever it was she and Kane were uncovering. 

“We won’t even go in the house,” the littlest Kent had pleaded. “It’s on the way home.”

“It’s a detour of ten blocks,” Lois said.

“Please,” Jon said. “We’ll just walk by and I’ll use my X-ray vision to look through the fence.”

“That’s voyeurism,” Alex said. 

“And this is a voyage,” Jon replied. “So even more awesome. Please? I promise. I won’t make any trouble.”

“You do and I call your father,” Lois said.

“And your cousin,” Alex added. Sighing good-naturedly, she let the boy take her hand, tugging her and Lois along the streets with the strength of a bull. Griff’s neighborhood was lined with brownstones and canopied by trees, and she and Lois chatted with each other warily as they made their way to their reconnaissance point. Alex kept thinking she saw something flitting above them, and kept her eyes trained on the overhanging branches. Beachwood was a fairly posh neighborhood, but while Lois was tough and Jon exhibited his father’s invulnerability, his soft, expression and Kara-like nature made her feel protective. When Jon was scanning the place, it wouldn’t hurt to take a soil sample. Maybe, it would show the same portal residue Kate Kane had discovered at the locations of other disappearances.

“Jon?” Lois asked. “Was your friend Griff a good student?”

Jon practically sneered and shook his head. “He sucked.”

“Language,” Lois said.

“Really?” Alex said. “As in not very bright terrible or just a handful?”

“No, Griff is smart,” Jon said. “Really smart, but he doesn’t pay attention and he talks back to the teachers all the time. It’s like he uses his brains to bully people.”

“Must take a lot of energy,” Alex said. “Was anyone helping him?”

Jon nodded. He took a short hop over a puddle, hovering slightly as he did. “He was in a special program at school,” and Alex mentally checked off another box.

“To help him focus and stuff. I don’t think it was helping though.”

Alex laughed. “Really? What kind of program?”

“Skyhawk,” Jon said. “Or something.”

“Skyhook,” Lois said. She gave Alex a meaningful glance. “That’s Tierney’s company. Remember him?”

“The vibrator and bronzing stick in one?” Alex nodded. “Yeah.” 

Lois laughed. 

“What’s a vibrator?” Jon asked.

Lois coughed. “A…um…device. Your dad uses it to melt snow at the Fortress.” She barely suppressed a laugh as Alex, her eyes wide in disbelief, gave her a playful punch in the shoulder. 

“Smooth one, Lane,” she mouthed.

Lois’s expression became serious. “Your sister was writing an expose about him. She doesn’t seem to like him much, but maybe he could help. Might be a good lead.”

Alex stopped for a moment. Maybe Kara’s reasons for disliking him would be an even better one. She watched as Lois went into pro questioning mode. 

“Were there a lot of kids in the program?” she asked. 

“Not a lot,” Jon said. “They got to leave class all the time though. They’re always getting tested via computer and called out for check ins. Other kids get jealous sometimes.”

“Check ins?” Lois asked.

“They give them tests, hook them up to monitors and stuff to make sure they’re healthy or something.”

“Are they on medication?” Alex said.

The boy shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

Lois and Alex shared a meaningful look. She was about to pick up the phone and call Kara, when the Hellgrammite lurched down from the trees above them. Jon leaped back a good dozen or so feet, pulling Lois and Alex with him. They tumbled to the pavement.

“Sorry,” Jon said.

The thing turned and swiped an elongated arm at him, and he skipped back. “I can handle this,” he said.v

“Stay away from it, Jon,” Lois said. “Stay back.”

Jon turned to them. “You stay back. It can’t hurt me. Dad says they’re wusses.”

With that, the creature swiped the boy with its other arm. Jon was knocked back into the front steps of a brownstone. 

“Jon!” Lois said. She was pressing her signal watch to call Clark. She stopped and ran over to the boy as Alex drew her alien gun and fired at it. It did no good. The creature, now ignoring Jon and Lois, was coming for her. She raised the gun and fired again. This time, it stopped the alien, but only for an instant. She saw Lois and the boy standing up from the stairway. Jon had pushed his mother away and was holding a finger up to his lips. “Distract it,” he mouthed.

Alex shook her head and stepped backward, hoping to lure the creature away from the boy. “No, Jon.” He was likely going to be fine, but Clark had told her they still weren’t certain about the extent of his invulnerability. Alex raised her gun and fired it into the air. “Come on, gorgeous! You want some? I’ve got a thing for leathery skin.”

The creature snarled and a long string of drool dripped from its jaws. It raised its clawed hands out and stalked towards her as she ran backwards and found herself in an alleyway blocked by a large brick wall. Kara, she whispered. Come on, sis.

As the creature loomed over her, about to maul her face, something clinked on the stone pavement between them, a canister. A stream of blue gas pulsed from the end, reeking of something like copper and iodine. Alex covered her mouth and batted the smoke away, but the creature’s enormous body went slack, its eyes drooping as it took another step towards her. She tried to back away, but there was no where she could move.

Just then a shroud dropped between them, and a streak of red hair flickered in front of her like the paint detail on a passing car. She could see through the gas that it was a woman, who punched the alien in the chest, causing it to cry out as it dug into its breast bone. Then she took a step back and pressed a switch on her belt. Something shot out from the chest attachment, a cable of some kind that made a rapid, circular trajectory around its body, winding and binding it until the thing was cocooned and fell forward on its face. 

Then the woman turned and grabbed Alex, now faint from the gas, under her arms and pulled her out of the alleyway, her boots dragging on the ground. Alex’s mind was drawing a blank now, about what to say, how to speak.

“You…who…?”

She saw Jon and Lois run forward, Lois taking Alex from her as the woman spoke to them both.

“You’re a bat,” Jon said. “What’s a bat doing in Metropolis?”

“Babysitting your friend Damien,” the woman said. “That thing is taken care of for now, but it’ll wake up soon. Want me to call for help?”

“I’ve got it,” Lois said, and just then Superman descended to the pavement, and Alex passed out with the image of Clark and the Batman standing side by side, only Batman? She was hot. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing how many people hate "Ally" I just wanted to warn that there IS a "Mags" in this upcoming chapter. Not from Alex. I know some find it distasteful, but have an affection for Bombshells canon. I promise no Als or Ally unless I write and AU from Married With Children.

“Cap! Better check this out.” Officer Robbins gestured Oscar and Maggie over to his computer monitor. “We got this on a toll camera outside of Hyams,” he said, bringing up a fuzzy black and white image.

“That looks like they’re headed for Metropolis?” Oscar said, glancing at Maggie.

Three-dimensional prints had allowed them to connect the tire tracks to a recently stolen SUV. It still wasn’t much, but Oscar had put out an all-points bulletin to the surrounding jurisdictions, and to Maggie’s surprise, he apologized--to her.

“That was good work, Margarita,” he said, his fingers curling tightly around his coffee mug. He’d even poured her a cup, something she had never seen him do for his mother or herself when she lived at home. “We wouldn’t have anything if you hadn’t made that suggestion. I’m sorry I questioned you earlier.” 

He looked at her gravely, one eyebrow raised, and Maggie stifled a sharp retort with a long sip of coffee. It was good coffee, she thought. A weird thing to contemplate in this situation, but between Jaime's disappearance and her estranged father, it was good, however briefly, to have her focus taken up by small things. However horribly he'd treated her, he was just as terrified about the girl as Maggie was. Maggie inhaled slowly and looked him in the eye. "Thanks," she said. They spent the next few hours going over intel, looking at images from surveillance cameras and scouring through other missing persons reports in neighbouring towns for similarities. So far, nothing seemed to match. 

Now, however, it looked like they might have something as they bent low, squinting over Robbin's shoulders to see a man leaning out of the driver’s seat of a black Humvee as he paid the booth attendant. He wore a cap and his face was concealed in a surgical mask.

“Freeze that,” Oscar said. “And zoom in?”

Robbins’ fingers rattled the keyboard and soon they were staring at two blurry, albeit recognizable images in the back seat. Two girls, one of them definitely Jaime. She was conscious, but didn’t look distressed or afraid. In fact, she and the other girl were leaning back in their seats, white headphone strings dangling from their ears like bored kids on a road trip. They might be drugged, Maggie thought. Or something worse.

"There's another girl there, "Robbins said. “We don’t have anyone else missing, do we? Not in Blue Springs or Halterville.”

Oscar folded his arms and nearly spat. “A lot of neglectful parents. We probably just don't know."

Maggie shot him a look, and he averted his eyes, let the irony of his words drop like a knife into the floor tiles between them. He cleared his throat. “What I mean is that the parents might not know if their daughter’s missing yet. It hasn’t even been 24 hours.”

Just then, a female officer with a pencil jammed behind her ear entered the room. “Hate to interrupt, Sherriff, but we’ve got Daria Hadley’s Mom here. Daria hasn't come home from the movies.”

Oscar hurried from the room and Maggie felt her heart thud. She didn't want to wait around until the Gage county P.D. decided at her urging to try something else. She pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number. 

"Sawyer? "Dan Turpin sounded exhausted and gruffer than usual, but he still managed his usual sweetness. “What is it, darling? In the middle of a real shitshow right now.”

"An emergency, Dan. Was hoping I could send a plate number and some info your way. Have your guys keep an eye out.”

Her voice must have cracked because Turpin’s gruffness melted. “You okay, Mags?”

Maggie felt herself shudder. She reached up and thumbed a tear from her eye. “It’s my cousin. She’s eight. Someone abducted her and likely another kid. Looks like they’re headed in your direction.”

Turpin went silent on the other end. “When?”

“Today. Looks like she walked into it. Might have gone willingly. I’m coming to Metropolis on the first flight out.” 

She could hear Turpin sigh on the other end. Heard him mutter a ‘fuck’ and a ‘Jesus Christ.’ 

“With another girl, you said?” he said finally. “Was she acting weird before that? Zoning out. Kind of spacy?”

Maggie remembered Jaime's odd trances, her paralysis in the outfield. “Yeah. Why?”

“Shit!" Turpin said. "Fuck it. Text me your flight info and I’ll come get you. Get your butt here fast, Sawyer. It ain't just your cousin. It's an epidemic.”

Maggie felt the tears flow as she nodded. She wasn’t used to kindness, was never prepared for it to happen when she needed it. 

“We’ll get her back, Mags,” Turpin said. "See you soon." She heard someone barking orders over the phone before it went dead. Another number immediately flashed on the screen. _Winn. Fuck, _she’d been so caught up in the search and her father, she hadn’t called him back.__

____

____

“Maggie? Oh thank god!” Winn said. "I've been trying to reach you all day."

Maggie stifled a sob and forced herself to focus. “I'm sorry. Look I'm tied up here, Winn. What is it?”

“So, I started fiddling around with script,” Winn said, “started cross referencing it with ancient texts attributed to Ren-Shiarl or otherwise known as Lofgethanes—legendary civilizations from the earliest galaxies to form. Mind you, it didn’t promise much. Those texts are fragments of fragments, and we’re talking remnants of remnants of attributions, a bajillion temporal vectors back and I—”

“I mean it,” she said. Oscar had returned and was watching her from across the room. He’d obviously seen her cry and his expression held a hint of sourness and mild concern. She was glad that things remained chilly between them. She couldn’t handle him trying to comfort her right now, not that he would. 

“To make a thirteen-billion-year long story short, not only was I able to decipher several previously indecipherable texts, ones not even available in our Kryptonian databank, but the equipment went bonkers. Was picking up a high signal-to-noise ratio, but I couldn’t locate the source at first—”

“Winn!” Maggie said. 

“It wasn’t coming through in radio waves, but some seriously ancient gamma radiation. I had to set up a spectrometer to pinpoint the signal. Maggie, this thing, these things, they’re using ancient radiation to transmit information. And they’re doing it in this seriously old language.”

Maggie thought about Jaime, how the code imprinted what she read instantly, permanently. She remembered how the device signaled to the kid from across the room. Maybe her zoning out and this alien enhanced ed-tech had a connection. Maybe the code had altered their brains, allowing Jaime and the other kids to pick up on those signals?

“Winn,” she said slowly. Her voice was calm now, level but intense. “Could you decipher it? What did it say?”

Winn’s jovial tone was gone, replaced with both fascination and no small amount of fear.

“I uh, never studied Ren-Shiarl, but all signs point to it being a beacon. It’s sending out a pretty clear signal to come to Jesus.”

“And where would Jesus be?”

“Metropolis,” Winn said. 


	29. A Link

It took several hours for Batwoman’s gas cocktail to wear off, but Alex didn’t require the med bay. Despite her protests, Clark plunked her down on a comfortable sofa in the HoJ with a large cup of coffee and Kara to watch over her. 

Kara looked bemusedly at her adoptive sister. She’d seen Alex on all kinds of drunks, but this one reminded her more of her own, when Mon-El had plied her with that alien rum in trade for training him. Alex was running at the mouth, asking question after question and stammering out conspiracy theories that seemed to come to her in the moment. “Why is Batman a woman? Where did she come from? What the hell was a Helgrammite doing in such an upscale neighborhood. It must have been waiting for Darkseid. Did it even know how to uber? Did Darkseid know how to Uber?”

“Alex,” Kara said, “Calm down.” She picked up the coffee cup and held it to Alex’s lips. The agent lurched away, nearly knocking it to the floor with her chin. 

“You know,” Alex said, raising a finger. “That is exactly what you tell me when I shouldn’t calm down. Remember the portal? The…the thanksgiving port—“ The half-uttered word sparked a memory and she screwed up her face. “Portal residue. I was supposed to…” She slapped at her pockets. “Oh my god, Kara! Where’s my phone? Fuck!”

A member of the Lantern Corps was in the far corner of the room, furiously reading a volume of ancient Titanian ballads. He glared up at the two of them. 

“Sorry!” Kara called out. 

“Hayseeds from National City,” Kara heard him mutter under his breath as he went back to reading. _Hayseeds_ Kara thought, bemusedly. _Haven’t heard that one since the Mickey Rooney marathon on TCM._

“Kara,” Alex said. She touched her sister’s arm, pinched it hard. “My phone.” 

Kara sighed and fumbled with the pocket in her cape. “Come on. Not in here. Who do you need to call?” 

Alex fell back on the sofa as she struggled to rise, and Kara reached out and pulled her up, slinging an arm around her sister’s shoulder as they made their way out into the corridor. “Kate Kane.” 

“Ooooh,” Kara grinned devilishly. “I thought I saw you two at the Planet Gala,” she said. 

Alex bent her head and shook it vigorously as if trying to forget a particularly awkward moment. “No. No. It’s not that. We’re working on something. A case. Some missing kids.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“When would I have told you? You were darting back and forth between here and National City? I…Kate…we found Bysshaaari portal residue at the scenes of disappearance,” Alex said. 

Kara frowned. “The Bysshaaari aren’t known for trafficking. They’re above board. The one the UN relies on for legal alien asylum seekers.” 

“And the kids,” Alex rambled. “They’re all involved in gifted programs at their schools. That’s the one thing that connects them, but not all of the kids in those programs have disappeared.” 

“What kind of programs?” Kara said. 

“I…I was going to ask you. Lois said Jon’s friend’s program was run by Skyhook. That—that guy.” 

Kara stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “Tierney,” she said. 

Alex felt her vision lop into two, her stomach lurched and her mouth went dry. “Yeah. Oh…” she said, letting go of Kara and bending over. “I think I’m going to…”

“Not on the tile,” said the Lantern. “It’s 3,000 years old.” Suddenly, a green toilet bowl materialized in front of Alex just in time for her to retch blue liquid down her front. 

“Alex,” Kara said. She helped her sister kneel in front of the bowl, rubbing her back as Alex expelled the last of the toxin she’d breathed in during the attack. 

“Tierney,” Kara said thoughtfully. “Let me look into it.” 

“You might want to,” someone said. 

Both women looked up to see Batwoman emerging from the elevator. 

“You’re not Batman…” Alex said, squinting. “I didn’t know there was a…wo…” She looked down at the blue liquid curdling down her front and clumsily slapped a hand over it. “This is...indecoroussus...sus.” 

Kara shrugged, her expression appealing quietly for empathy. “How long does it take to wear off?” 

Batwoman chuckled. “About another hour. No hangovers or side-effects with humans.” She knelt next to Alex and said, “I’m sorry about the toxin, agent Danvers. It was the only way I could get our boy from turning you into a canape.” 

She placed a light hand on Alex’s shoulder and the agent stared at her, the blur in her mind sharpening at the recognition. The voice, not to mention the touch, was familiar. 

“Anyway, Kate Kane said you could use this information.” She passed Kara a flashdrive. “I took those samples you were looking for,” she said. “When you’re feeling better, Ms. Kane will be in touch.” 

“In the meantime,” Kara said, her brows furrowing. “Mind if I take a look?” 


	30. A Gift

“How much memory have you got on your phone?” Winn’s voice was soft and conspiratorial. 

“Just got it,” Maggie said. She was walking across the tarmac to the bus that would take her to the arrivals gate where Turpin would be waiting for her.

“I’m sending you a file,” Winn said. “A compressed version. Its works a lot better on a mainframe if you can get the guys at the Metropolis S.C.U. to run it.” 

“What does it do?” Maggie asked.

“It tracks the radiation signature,” Winn said. “You’ll be able to pinpoint the beacon better there. Hopefully to an exact location. If it is in this dimension. I can’t promise anything.” 

Maggie let out a shuddering laugh of relief and hope. “This is great. How did you--”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to uh mention first…You didn’t get this from me.” 

Maggie paused on the tarmac, a blast of cold wind rustled the overlong sleeves of her jacket, and freezing rain starred her cheeks, but she felt warm inside. Winn had cobbled together a potential miracle from some of the most heavily guarded technology in the world. He’d committed what at the very least would have been a fireable offense-- if not treason-- for her. 

“Between us then," Maggie said, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Winn. You didn’t have to--” 

“Remember when you broke into that prison?” 

Maggie shuddered at the memory. She’d gone against her own ethics, had stolen some DEO technology to conceal herself in order to save Alex’s life. She hadn’t known how much Winn knew about that.

“That was the rightest and bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.” He was silent for a moment before she heard a flurry of activity behind him. “But yeah, discretion. Please. See if you can put it on their computer. Tell them you got it from..somewhere. Just not, you know, me.” 

“Lose to you in pool next time?” Maggie said, squeezing her eyes closed. 

“Sure,” Winn said. She’d never heard him sound so confident. Then she opened her eyes and continued toward the bus. 


	31. Balcony Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More plottiness. I will get back to Maggie and Metropolis in the next chapter, but Grife! It's Tuesday night in this part of the world (which means Mongay in the US) so I must watch 3x10 and make fun of Brainiac 5's acne lights and wonder if Mon-El's Swiss Kryptonite knife will be whittling driftwood at the Slaver's Moon Summer Camp for Wayward Teens.

Lena Luthor steadied herself against the glass tabletop as a chill wind starred her skin with goosebumps. She liked the winter and thought the cool air might revive her focus, but instead she felt exhausted, and when she closed her eyes, her vision was dotted with floaters. She took a deep breath and forced herself to straighten; maybe she’d call Jess and have her cancel her appointment with Garland Shipping this afternoon, but their exec had flown in all the way from Alaska and that likely wasn’t an option. She edged around the table and took a seat, leaning her head forward and closing her eyes, hoping to cut out the visual noise of the early afternoon sun. The sounds from street grated at her—jets flying over, voices echoing up from the concrete, not to mention construction on the soon-to-be-next-door high-rise. She was about to spin around in her chair and close the balcony door, when a stronger gust blew into the room. 

“Ms. Luthor, is everything all right?” 

Lena turned around to see Supergirl standing tentatively on the balcony, her mouth set in an expression of concern.

“I’m sorry for being presumptuous,” the hero said, “If it’s a bad time, I can— “

Lena held her hand up. “Not at all. It’s a pleasure,” she said, breathing slowly to still her heartbeat. Just seconds ago, she was feeling faint and now, with this woman’s presence, she felt agitated suddenly. Awake, but still in a fog. “I haven’t seen you lately. I suppose that means things have been peaceful.” 

“Yes. I’ve been using that time to take care of things for a few friends in Metropolis.” Supergirl smiled enigmatically. It was irritating, this sincerity, going through the trouble of lying and feeling guilty didn’t sit right with Lena. 

“Oh,” Lena said. “You must have seen Kara Danvers then. She’s on assignment over there. Covering Alistair Tierney’s new tech venture.” 

Supergirl bent her head and frowned as she stepped into the office. “That’s actually why I’m here, Ms. Luthor.” 

For an instant, she looked so nervous, so oddly vulnerable and adorable despite the power pose that Lena let her head fall back and laughed. “Need to borrow her for some P.R., is it?” she asked.

Supergirl shook her head. “Yesterday, Kara Danvers came to me with some of the tech Tierney’s using for his program. She has some concerns.”

Lena swallowed. Kara hadn't liked Alistair, that had been certain. She thought it might have had something more to do with the strange vibe that had floated between them of late, their friendship was starting to feel like something else, a dependency, and not an unpleasant one. She nodded and gestured for Supergirl to take a seat across from her, but the other woman stayed where she was until Lena broke the silence.

“I helped him design the hardware,” Lena said. “That as well as the manufacture bear L Corp's stamp."

“Did you find anything unusual about it? Did he make any unusual requests regarding the design?” Supergirl said.

Lena thought for a moment. “Not in the tech itself, but the flow of the application _was_ a bit odd, I thought.”

“Flow,” Supergirl said.

“I mean,” Lena pulled up her tablet and tapped a few times on the screen. “Tierney had designed it as a language app—teach the language first, and to do that, you have to decide the order in which things are learned, usually alphabet, then simple words, then gradually more complex words and grammatical structures, idioms, etc. This one…” she pulled up a mind map for Matricstext input, "doesn’t do that from what I can tell.”

Supergirl leaned over the screen and Lena felt herself warm with the sudden proximity. Did Kryptonians radiate the sun as they absorbed it?

“Can you read it?” the alien asked.

“I didn’t study this language,” Lena said. “Alistair says it’s more effective on children, but you can see here, he starts off with some rather complex, nonsensical phrases that students need to memorize first before the real learning begins.”

She thumbed down the screen, on which appeared long strings of numbers and rune like symbols, strange characters with curves and geometrical patterns.

“So, this is like a keycode of some sort,” the superhero said, “And for the kids to learn the Matricstext, they have to input this into their brains.”

Lena leaned back and rubbed the back of her neck. “Like a brain training game, I imagine. A brilliant one. I’m sure Kara has told you the results he’s getting.”

“Yes,” Supergirl said. She paused, her smile forced and somewhat guilt-stricken. “Ms. Luthor?”  
“Come on, Supergirl, it’s Lena. And there’s no need for that long face. You can tell me if you have concerns.”

“Do you mind sharing that with me?” Supergirl asked, pointing to the tablet. “I’d like to take a closer look at the key code.”

“It’s confidential,” Lena said. “But if you tell me why you want it, I may be able to justify that part slipping my mind.”

Supergirl approached Lena’s desk and took a seat on the end. She clasped her hands together and bowed her head as if deciding. “Then how about a trade? My confidential information is that we’ve got missing children all over the Midwest and the Eastern seaboard. Tierney’s Skyhook for Skyhope program is the only thing at this point connecting all of them. Neither I nor Kara Danvers think he’s involved, but it’s the only link we have.”

Suddenly, the hero reached over and touched Lena’s shoulder, her fingers fiddling lightly with the fabric of the CEO’s shirt. A nervous habit, Lena thought. One she’d seen Kara Danvers partake in as well. Supergirl snapped out of it and stood abruptly. “If it isn’t an inconvenience, Ms…Lena. You would be helping us cross off another box in the investigation.”

“Of course,” Lena said, feeling a pang of disappointment at the other woman’s sudden distance. “Anything I can do to help. After the lead crisis, I’d certainly hate for another one of my plans to backfire in my face,” she said with a tinge of bitterness at the memory.

Supergirl shot her an intense look and held it as if she was trying to hold what she saw in place. “I’ve never doubted you, Lena. And I never will.”


	32. The Operation Begins

“OK, people, listen up!”

Dan Turpin strode purposefully past the zigzagging rows of desks in the lineup room, the clamor dying down as he approached the display screen. There were ten other officers assigned to the operation, including Maggie, whom many had greeted as an old friend. It made her miss the S.C.U. She wondered now, if after her experience working with the DEO, she might be more useful in Metropolis. There was more red tape here between the cops, the capes, and the Feds. Maybe she could do something to change that. 

Despite the officers relaxed demeanor, however, they were a tight ship. They were already suited up, helmets at their sides, their flak jackets tightened and checked; their magazine pouches were carrying extra rounds of chemically enhanced ammunition to counteract potential alien threats. Rarely did those prove useful, other than as a psychological balm. There were so many different species on Earth you never knew what combination of chemicals and other enhanced weaponry might work. Sometimes, you just had to throw everything at the oozing, tentacled wall and hope for the best. 

Maggie had found it easy to remain cryptic about the source of the beacon: Informing Turpin what she knew—that whoever or whatever it was was ancient and not from around here. He'd learned from her work and tense friendship with Superman, and later, Supergirl, not to push her for more. That the signal's source seemed to originate in a hazy blend of alien and Earthian mythology might not inspire confidence around the squad room. If it was one thing that never changed about cops, it was that they all hated hippies. 

Turpin clapped his hands together to nail down the room’s attention and turned toward a projection of a large viaduct. “We’ve had sightings of Laurence Bender, Mariah Foley, and Jaime Sawyer, among many others, that indicate these kids all moving toward the same location. Detective Sawyer believes they may be responding to a frequency, one that thanks to her, we’ve been able to trace to the Laforet Aquaduct. If you haven’t heard the urban legends as a kid, you will know that—bogeymen or not—it’s dangerous territory, kids. Lots of aliens and the worst kinds of human squatters. Don’t step into any shit piles. They’ll blow the whole thing for us if we aren’t discrete.” 

One of the officers raised his hand. “What about the feds? They involved in this?” 

Turpin shrugged. “What about ‘em?” Gruff laughter rippled through the room. “As far as I know," he continued, "the feds aren’t paying any attention to this matter at all. And with them now running the HOJ, it will probably take months to see any capes getting their acts together unless we contact Superman directly. I’m not dumpin’ on the capes, but formal channels haven’t been the best approach after the infiltration. This…” he rubbed his hands together against the cold that had settled in the room, “is our chance to get a jump on those government knobs.” 

The team broke out in applause and ‘whoops’ of support and Maggie felt a smile crack her features for the first time since Jaime’s disappearance. Turpin, that ‘older little brother’ to her, had grown into a leader during her absence. It made her feel proud as the officers snatched up their helmets, adjusting their magazine cartridges as they made an orderly line through the corridor toward the vans that awaited them outside. 


	33. Club Lead

“Any progress?” Kara said, tilting her head through the door of the HOJ lab. She wrinkled her nose. Something smelled strange, like vinegar, but sweet. “I’ve run the code through the Kryptonian database and...nada. You smell that?” She scanned the room and walked over to the waste basket, tilting it to find nothing but a crumpled piece of paper. 

“Nope. And nope.” Alex peered intensely into the monitor. The shapes and whirls trickled down the screen, shifting and altering in form as she scrolled past them. “I’ve sent it off to Winn for decoding. Last chance Schott might be able to come up with something. Although…he was weird.” 

“How so?” Kara asked, sniffing the air.

“Jittery. Almost embarrassed or …” Alex pushed herself back in her seat and pointed to her chest. "What? Is it me? Do I have B.O.?"

"No, no, not you," Kara said. "It just smells like someone's eaten a pile of potstickers and downed it with a bottle of Shokoshu. Only one person I know liked..." Alex shook her head abstractedly and Kara gave up. “So, Winn. Maybe Lyra was paying him a visit?” 

Alex shook her head. “No, ewww. And if anyone eats in this lab, they deserve to be drawn and quartered. Winn just answered really quickly. Like he knew what I was going to ask.” 

Kara laughed. “You do know that he’s terrified of you, don’t you? He’s probably just trying to keep you from quartering him yourself.” 

“Yeah,” Alex said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “He probably deserves better than he gets from me. Maybe he’ll come through. Any word on Tierney?” She looked up at Kara and rubbing at her eyes, covered a yawn with her other hand. It had been a long day of worry and staring at screens. Kara shook her head. 

“Lena has tried to reach him to no avail. Neither Kara Danvers nor Supergirl have had much luck in that department either.” She smiled wanly and then let out an exasperated huff of air that caused the instruments on Alex’s table to tremble. “Sorry… God! That guy is such a slime ball. I knew it. People just don’t seem to see it when there’s money involved.” 

“Rich people are all the same,” Alex said. Kara shot her a look and she swallowed. "Except for Lena. Calm down."

"I am calm," Kara said. "Totally calm." 

Alex thought she caught a tinge of red in her sister's cheeks, but before she could confirm it, Kara had turned away and started pacing. 

“You know what I mean," she said. "Tierney's probably gone into hiding in a lead-lined vault until he can lawyer up.” 

“There’s probably a lead lined vault membership,” Kara said. “They each pay a million or so for a Kryptonian-proof hideout, complete with a hot tub and a wine cellar.” 

“And caviar and a Sharper Image catalogue…wait.” Alex’s eyes narrowed and she straightened. “Wait…” She stood up, lifted her finger to the air like she was tapping down at something invisible. 

“What?” Kara said, but Alex was already picking up the phone, tapping a few words into google as she peered at the screen. A sly smile lit her features as she shook her head in disgust. 

“See what I mean?” she asked, holding out the phone. "They are all the same." She paused for effect. "Except...you can tell me who, you know?" She gave her sister a merciless grin as Kara stepped forward and tried to focus on the screen. As Alex flicked through the images, Kara saw several photos of Maxwell Lord and Alistair Tierney, clinking glasses at a benefit, on safari holding up the carcass of some helpless lion; a paparazzi photo of the two of them on a yacht showed them cavorting with a gaggle of models. 

"See?" Alex nodded at Kara and lifted the phone to her ear. “Winn?” she said, her voice noticeably gentler. “No, it’s not about the code, although that--No, it’s-- J’onn needs to do another impersonation. I need to speak with him. And tell Maxwell Lord down there in that cell of his to expect a visitor. An old friend with a sneaky offer to get him out of purgatory and squire him away. That should make him _very_ excited.” 

“Very astute,” Kara said, and Alex, the phone still pressed to one ear as she waited for J’onn, wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. 

"About more than you realize," Alex said, and looked directly at her.


	34. The Climb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was so close to getting those crazy kids in the same room, but I had to do a bunch of research and the second part of this needs more editing. I didn't want to miss an update, so here's a chunk.

The Laforet Viaduct was a rotting hulk of stone and steel that hunched over four miles of a human disaster. Built in 1884, it had once traversed an estuary between Metropolis and Hobbes Bay, and was a small, but crucial trading port that had served an added purpose as an immigration checkpoint. The structure had lost much of its commercial and visual luster decades later, when the main port was moved to New Troy and a quickly passed stimulus bill allowed farmers to drain its fresh water inflow for use in irrigation. The trains themselves stopped running in the early 1950s, when a freeway was built across the surrounding marshland. Since then, the abandoned structure become a hulking, grotesque symbol of a previous gilded age, home both to hauntings and headtrippers. To discourage squatting by the latter, the city had demolished the roads leading to the tracks on both sides, and the thing now spanned the human-made bog like some spiny Triassic monster. 

This made the approach difficult for the Metropolis S.C.U. The most practical way would be to drop down by chopper, but to do so would announce their presence to whomever--likely whatever--it was and endanger the kids. Instead, Turpin’s squad set themselves to slogging through half a mile of mud and thick reeds that snared their boots as they sank into the changeable surface. Along with the cold and the complications of the operation, the squad had other things to worry about before they reached the rendezvous point. The Basin had a decently long history as an illegal dumping ground for toxic waste.Ten years ago, a young Lois Lane had exposed an epidemic of miscarriages among women who lived in the shoreline communities of the now gone estuary--Morgan Edge had settled on that one before moving on the Gotham, and then National City. It was even rumored that the vigilante Zeroman got his powers after stumbling into bin of static mercurorium, although he vehemently denied it. But Zeroman was a bit of a bon vivant and not averse to bribes. Somewhere an Edge or a Lord or a Luthor was paying for his Cava and his shiny costume.

Turpin told his people to move slowly and carefully. “I don’t want to see any of you glowing when you get back,” he said. Once they were safely surrounding the perimeter, a member on each team would start the climb, the other staying below to provide back up. Once at the top, they would make their way over to a structure known as The Basin, an enormous, funicular building that had once served as a customs office and immigration checkpoint. The Basin sank down the center of the viaduct like a rotting Victorian prototype of the Guggenheim, a once gilded ramp whirling down around its outside, not--as the Museum boasted--so visitors could experience the whole, but so the pencil pushers and members of America's new bureaucracy could keep tabs on all comings and goings. There had been a battle to preserve the Viaduct as an historical site, but the dangers that surrounded it precluded even the loudest activist. These days, it was mostly a place to dump bodies or a temporary lair for the latest upstart villain. 

Maggie and Turpin had spent the long trudge over catching up on the details of each other’s lives. It was what you did on missions like this, when you might not get another chance to be heard. Turpin told Maggie about the woman he was seeing, how he wasn’t sure if it was serious. She was controlling. 

“You’re just playing too many video games,” Maggie had teased him. Turpin had long been appraised of her situation with Alex--he'd been on the list as her best man before the break up-- but she updated him on Luisa's surprise death and the situation with Jaime, how she'd agonized over whether or not to take custody of her before it blew up in her face. 

When they reached their destination, Turpin turned to her and said, “What are you going to do, Mags?” 

Maggie leaned head back, squinting up at the hulk of brick and corroded metal that hunched over them. “Well,” she said. “I’m smaller and lighter and can get through lots of holes. I’m going up first.” 

“I meant,” Turpin said. “About Jaime. You told me that whole sob story and now I’m not gonna get an end?” 

Maggie smiled flatly. She knew Turpin might have been delaying things, that he worried about her, but she also sensed that he was thinking about the possibility of her not coming back, and what that might entail for this kid who’d seemingly overnight brought a glimmer of light back into his old partner’s eyes. She took of her backpack and began methodically removing the climbing gear, checking the elasticity of the cable. “You know, I thought a smaller town might be good for her. But she got into this mess all by herself in Nebraska. What the fuck was I thinking, right?” She laughed and pulled on the harness, checking it for flaws. “You know how those politicians like to talk about Wall Street and Main Street? Main Street doesn’t exist anymore.” She swallowed, lifted a hand to her hair and found nothing. It was all tucked into her cap. She touched her cap instead, letting out a laugh that sounded both introspective and relieved. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, Dan,” she said, looking at him. “You uh, wanna be a godfather?” 

“I'd be pissed if you didn't offer,” Turpin said. He strode over to her and wrapped her in an embrace. This time, it wasn’t awkward like it had been after her break up with Alex, although one of her magazines pressed into his shoulder. He winced and stepped back abruptly. 

“You sure you want to?” he said, nodding at the great shadow above them, likely all too aware that Maggie couldn’t stay soft in front of a colleague for long. 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice hitching. "Let's do this then."

Turpin gestured to the kit she’d laid out on the ground. “I got your back. Ladies first.” 


	35. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the presence of Maxwell House. Folgers wasn't available and the obnoxious one was suddenly required for the plot. Also veering away from S1 canon because I completely forgot they'd let the guy go.

Lena Luthor settled herself in front of the two-way mirror in the observation room. Things went in a blur after that rather attractive woman--Agent Vasquez, was it?-- had appeared breathlessly in her Catco office that morning, asking if “Ms. Luthor would be willing to sign a confidentiality agreement before possibly aiding in a classified government operation?” All the cute ones had a way with words, Lena thought. She’d then been flown from the rooftop by a black ops helicopter, not unhilariously a mere ten blocks away, where she was ushered into a secret headquarters with a skylight of all things. The hilarity died down when she was forced to sign form after form under the watchful eye of a rather severe looking woman known only as ‘Pam.’ It was going on noon when a familiar face finally presented itself in the form of Kara’s friend, Winn Schott. 

“I-I knew you worked in IT,” Lena said, smiling awkwardly, “I just thought it was making new monsters for Pokémon Go or Candy Crash.” 

“Crush,” Winn said. “And no monsters, just candy. And you could give me a cooler cover story. At least a food app. Or that thing that matches your face with painterly masterpieces.” 

“Can you can cook?” Lena said, happy for the banter, “or paint?”

Winn looked at his shoes. “Neither. But that's not the point.” 

Now, the two of them watched as Alistair Tierney, or the likeness of Alistair Tierney, walked blithely into the interrogation room and sat across from Maxwell Lord. Contrary to expectations, Lord looked neither thrilled nor impressed at seeing his old friend. In fact, he hadn’t even gotten dressed for the meeting. He was still in his DEO issued pajamas, a robe draped loosely around his slack form. 

“It’s absolutely uncanny,” Lena said of Tierney. 

“Thanks to you,” Winn said, handing her a headset. “We were able to glean his appearance from publicity photos, TED talks, and news clips, but it was you who gave us insight on his mannerisms. Our ‘impersonator’ can be a bit stiff.” 

“I see,” Lena said, wondering if alien impersonation ever factored into how the people she was closest to didn’t seem to be themselves. Lex, for example, or Kara, whose behavior seemed to grow more inexplicable the closer they became. No matter how hard she worked to establish a solid, trustworthy identity separate from her brother, those around her always seemed to morph into unrecognizability. _How did you know,_ she thought, _who anybody was these days?_

She placed the headset on and adjusted the mic. As Tierney’s closest associate in National City, she would be feeding the shapeshifter crucial details about Tierney if they needed them. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but after Supergirl’s visit the other day, her reaffirmation of her confidence in Lena, she was determined to help. 

The two men began with a few mild pleasantries, old club affiliations, parties, women, until Tierney’s double brought up the prospect of those happening again. "We'll be doing that soon, Max. Drinking mojitos in Los Cabos."

Lord froze. His expression almost contemptuous. “You’re joking, right?” He gestured to the steel walls around them. “You think I’ll get to leave?” 

The impersonator leaned forward, steepling his hands the way Tierney did when he wanted to appear thoughtful. “Oh, no. I'm far from facetious, Max. I'm in a pickle."

Lena cringed. "No pickles. No down-home colloquialisms.”

You see, Max," Tierney's double said. "I’d like to get out of here today as well if it’s possible. Remember my little venture with the kiddos?” 

“Children,” Lena whispered. “Tierney isn’t proud of his slum background. Despite what he says. Stay away from dialect.” 

“The children,” Tierney continued, “have gone AWOL on me. These feds can’t seem to find them and neither can I. Children, Max.” 

Lord snorted and leaned back to regard his visitor. “You don’t sound like yourself, old friend. All that philanthropy’s gone to your head. Turned you into a sucker.” 

Lord’s companion raised his eyes to the monitor hanging above them. “I might have other motives as well.” He coughed self-consciously and turned his head away from the monitor, winking at Lord. “Come on, Max. They need us. I need you. You’re the only one with the technological know how to fix this. And I can’t do it in here. But first we need to get you out, Max. Get you some fresh air.” He gave the other man a meaningful look. _Wherever_ it is that you need to go.” 

Lord pushed himself back in his chair and belly laughed. “Oh, come on, J’onn! I thought it was awful when you did Kara Danvers to cover for Supergirl, but this. Pshaw!”

Lena sprang back in surprise. She turned fast in her chair, her eyes boring into Winn’s. The agent was already in cover up mode, slapping his knee theatrically, belting out a loud, overdone guffaw that made her suspect she had included him in her will. 

“Noooo, noooo,” Winn said. “Ha-ha! He’s a head gamer, that Lord. Smart. See?” His face became stern as he pointed at the glass. “You see what he’s doing here?” 

By that time, Lord was standing and facing the monitor. His eyes narrowed and his mouth stretched into a sneer. 

“Look,” he said, smarmily. “It’s clear you think I know where my friend is. And you’re right!” He clapped his hands together. “I do! And not only that. I happen to know how Tierney’s technology works, how he got access to that alien code work you’re so desperately trying to understand. You want to learn more?” He reached up and mimed a phone next to his ear. “Dial 1-800-Bring my Lawyer Frederick Park and _All_ the Paperwork Down and Free Me.” 

Lena turned back to Winn, his face pale, her voice trembling. “Is it true?” she mouthed. 

Winn laughed, but his eyes looked stricken, like they were about to pop out of his head. “No!" He shook his head vigorously. "No.” But the agent’s eyes told a different story entirely, and Lena realized she could be getting this man into trouble far deeper than the turmoil happening within her. She turned away and said, “I see. I thought not.” 

“And one more thing,” Max said, tugging at his robe. “Get me a Doctor Pepper and some Jean-Paul Maurice to wear. Preferably with French cuffs. This thing doesn’t hang right.” 


	36. Walking to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope the song isn't too OOC. It was part of my playlist for this, so...expedience.

During the climb, Maggie didn’t look down. It wasn’t a fear of heights. She’d done plenty of rooftop chases, and been aloft with capes more times than she could count, but she was superstitious. This crisis, like her situation with Jaime, wasn’t something where you had the luxury to hesitate or look back. If she was going to get through this; if _they_ were going to get through this, she needed to not question her strategy or the decision that her conversation with Turpin had crystalized.If she found her, if she got Jaime out of this mess, she was going to raise the kid, too. Give her the best home she could. She hoisted herself over onto the trellis, and exhausted, lay there face down on the rotting wooden planks that sided the railway tracks. The wind was stronger without protection from the brick pillars. It ripped against her clothes, and whipped into her face, causing her eyes to smart. She pulled down her night goggles and bent her head toward the radio, a small black nub attached to her collar. “I’m up. Status secure. Over” 

Turpin answered in the affirmative as she got to her feet and scanned her surroundings. The muddy expanse of the former estuary gaped up at her from both sides of the viaduct, a nearly endless and undulating darkness that glowed eerily in patches like jellyfish washed up on the shore. The old tracks ran parallel over meshes of rotting wood, so dark from the constant sea damp that getting across this thing would require enormous vigilance. It would be so easy, she thought, to lose her footing on a slippery plank, or mistake the darkness for a solid surface. A flash in the distance caught her attention and she glanced across the expanse to see that other members of the squad had made the ascent. She flickered her penlight back, then detached the cable from the carabiner and started forward. 

Maggie remembered as a girl walking across the Linus pedestrian bridge during a trip to Omaha. The walkway was concrete, with occasional interruptions of steel grates through which they could see the churning water of the Missouri. She remembered taking both Oscar and Elena's hands as they made their way across, and every time they reached the grate, her parents would lift her high in the air, make her feel like she was flying over the roil below. That had been exhilarating. This, not so much. 

She focused on the line of steel tracks as she moved forward, her hand nervously brushing her piton gun as she did. If the floor collapsed beneath her, she would get one shot to keep from hurtling to the mud seven stories below. The tracks were dark and bloody with rust, and she could smell the sharp tang of copper mixed with sea water, momentarily dispersed by strong gusts that pushed from behind. As she moved forward, she sang, more like whispered, to herself, a steady ballad from her youth. _And in the morning was a different place. In every passerby, I saw your face. Love leaves a lonely ghost with one thought uppermost...”_ she paused, foot steady over gap before her, the track bent below into the dark maw like a hand extended in welcome. She stepped around it, and kept going. _“Am I walking to you...am just walking to you?”_ Her radio buzzed and she stopped. It was Turpin. “I’m about to start my ascent. Over.” 

“Affirmative,” Maggie said. “Be careful.” 

The tracks continued on until they crossed over the rounded expansion of The Basin. Maggie had seen the old Daguerreotypes of the original structure, once boasting of a transept roof, composed of steel and glass arching grandiosely over the tracks. The glass had long shattered and been scavenged or left to the elements, but some of the original steel mesh remained, jutting perilously toward the sky. Amid the tracks was the entrance to a small station house, through which Maggie could access the stairwell that had once descended around the outer rim of The Basin’s interior. Once. Now, what was left of it was hardly stable; More than one intrepid ruins explorer had been injured or met an early death when it collapsed beneath them. Instead, Maggie would have to rappel down side into near pitch blackness and hope she wasn’t turning herself into a plinking can. 

_“Am I just walking to you?”_ she breathed, knowing that she wouldn’t be walking at all from here on out. She had to trust herself to fall. 

As she lowered herself, she expected bats to flap around her, or her skin to be traced with cobwebs. The best option. She remembered visiting her family in Mexico one summer, being told stories of _Los Aluxes_ , tiny imps that would creep into your house or murder your dog for some unknown transgression. She shuddered and switched on her flashlight, pointing it down into the inky darkness, seeing nothing but the twisted legs of a chair as she lowered herself past an another empty level. On another she what looked like a pipe organ. There were no other lights. The others would be coming in through different entrances to stay safe. She leaned into the mic. 

“Making way. Status secure, over.” 

“I can see you,” Turpin said, and she looked up, feeling a tinge of relief as she spotted the light from his flashlight beaming down over the edge. At about a hundred meters down, she saw a pool of parquetted floor rise up to greet her beam. There would be one more floor to go after this--the source of beacon was close. She dropped to the floor, which creaked under her weight, and took a few tentative steps before detaching the cable. She’d expected at least one other officer to be there, but the place was as empty as it was silent. She ran her flashlight over the broken chairs and mildewed wall paper, her nostrils curling at the scent of rainwater and something dead. “Aikin? Tambor? You close?" 

Her earpiece crackled. “Almost. We got held up. Goddamned bookshelf is blocking our way. We’ll be with you soon, Sawyer.” 

“Okay,” she whispered. “Bring me a bodice ripper, will you?” 

There was a brief chuckle and then nothing. And then a scream and the sound of something wrenching, like the hull of a ship being torn away. 

“Aikin!” Maggie said. "Tambor?" 

“Take cover, Sawyer!” was the response, along with the crackle of a round of gunfire. Maggie looked up to see that Turpin’s light was gone. She saw an old, torn up sofa in the corner of the room and ran, ducking behind it, just as she heard the piercing cry of something clearly inhuman. 

“Turpin, you up there? I think Aikin and Tambor are--” 

There was the rattle of gunfire, protracted over minutes that seemed like hours. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut as it was silenced, the sound still juddering in her ears. "Turpin," she said again. 

“Barely,” was the response. “Banning and Kim are down. These things are everywhere, Mags. Take cover. Back up is en route.” 

"Okay," she whispered, more to herself. 

There was no response. The gunfire and human mixed with inhuman screams continued to echo around her. Maggie drew her gun and flicked her flashlight off just in time to see those _things_ descending in the darkness, lithe, iridescent figures, with long serpentine bodies and the thin, gossamer wings that did nothing to draw from their menace. They swooped down and around, darting towards her and away, like a moth would flutter around her apartment, circling the light but not staying there, until she was forced to kill it. She didn’t think she’d be able to do that with these. As they darted closer, still unaware of her presence, Maggie could make out powerful musculature, and--as these things usually worked out in dark, creepy ruins-- fangs, long and venomous and dripping with something acrid.

 _Fuck,_ she thought. _I’m in one of your favorite movies, Danvers._ And that’s when she saw it, the pool of emerald light flickering from beneath the sofa. She lowered herself to her stomach and peered underneath. The light was coming from a hole in the floor. One just large enough for her to slip through. She heard the rattle of gunfire, another scream, and remembered that story about the Peru climbers, that man who'd fallen into a crevasse and shattered his leg. His only route to survival wasn’t up. Up was impossible. Instead, he had to climb down into the darkness. He survived. 

Maggie waited for the things to circle away from her. They flew and swooped in manic patterns like starlings. Then scooting back against the wall, she pressed her legs against the sofa and gave it a slow push. To her delight, it slid easily and almost noiselessly over the floor. She took her piton gun and fired it into the wall before attaching the cable and lowering herself into the green murk. When her feet touched the floor, she saw them. Endless huddles of small, human bodies, their arms wrapped around one another, their temples pressed together, vine like tendrils snaking around their arms, their legs, encircling their necks and their waists as they hummed and murmured. They sound they made was like some mournful, ethereal machine.

“Jaime,” she whispered. Cold tears stung her skin. “Where are you, baby?” 

She drew her gun again and leaned into the mic. “Turpin? You there?” 

Her radio cracked and she wanted to sob with relief. “Aikin’s down. Fletcher is missing. We got back up coming. Hang on, Mags.” 

“I found...” Maggie said. “I think I found her... _them_.”


	37. Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was delayed because...research...and the number of things happening. I'm new to writing action scenes and imagine there are a ton of repetitions and cliches, which I'll scream at later. I just hope it hits the right character notes.

This was worse than being in any horror film she’d ever seen. As she crept around the clusters of children, she saw they were in varying stages of transformation. Some, despite their closed eyes and pallor, looked almost normal; their sneakers tied, their cuffs rolled up, and the labels on their clothing sharp and legible in the beam of her flashlight—Bopsy, Indikidual, Berry Very. The mundanity of those names felt even more like a trick the universe was playing on her, on the existence of the children themselves. Other children were barely recognizable as such. They seemed to be losing their angles, sagging and melting into one another like undersized mannequins in a fire. 

Maggie took a hesitant step toward a knot of fresher captures, running her beam down the tendrils that circled their limbs, and hoping that she wouldn’t find Jaime among them. As she bent closer, she saw that the coils spat and tightened in response to the light, like nasty, sentient mushrooms or deep-sea creatures. She knelt to get a better look at the bare skin on a boy’s arms. Snaking up his forearms seemed to be a complex network of veins, almost like the red streaks you got during the early stages of blood poisoning. She wished now that she had had the foresight to check Jaime, that she’d looked for other signs beyond the girl’s tendency to blank out. Her eyes registered movement and she jerked back, sliding her night goggles atop her head for a closer look. 

Those weren’t veins, but fine lines of text—some bacterial version of that code, curling up their skin like necromantic film credits, the symbols whirling and twisting and changing shape. She needed to get in touch with Winn when she got out of this. She’d keep his secret to the grave, but hoped he had the wherewithal to share the information he’d given her with the DEO. He would. He was too good of a person not to. 

“Turpin,” she spat into her mic. “We’ve got a real shit show down here and a whole lot of kids. Get as many down here as you can, but tell them to hold their fire unless it’s coming from the air.” 

She was answered by another crackle of gunfire from far above, which was followed by an unearthly moan that echoed down The Basin like some discordant funeral dirge. Another burst of gunfire, closer this time, shook the structure and sent down a dusting of debris.

Maggie bent back to take another look through the opening she had come through, stepping on one of the tendrils. It hissed and popped under the weight of her boot. A sweetly satanic odor assaulted her nostrils and she felt a brief swell of nausea. She lifted her foot and the coil began to ooze, discharging a milky liquid with the rank air. She fought down another surge of bile in her throat, glancing up at the boy to whom the thing was attached. His eyes were open now; he’d managed to turn his head, and was blinking at her, his thoughts visible on his face. 

“Keep cutting it,” he said, his voice a faint wheeze against the hissing. “Cut it off of us. Hurry.” 

Maggie paused. She’d seen these things in movies with their requisite boobytraps, and had encountered enough horror in real life to know they had a basis in reality. She might kill this kid. Regardless of the outcome, the DEO would likely revoke her special privileges and the NCPD would have her badge for not waiting on orders. But the boy seemed so certain. 

Hands trembling, she pulled a knife from her duty belt and wrapped her gloved fingers around one of the tendrils. It began wriggling at her touch, tightening around the boy’s neck, suffocating him. The decision had already been made for her. 

She jabbed the knife under the coil and with a swift sawing movement, slit the thing in half. The blade made a neat cut, causing more of that gunk to ooze out as the other tendrils around the children began to loosen and slip down their bodies like oily strings of pasta. The boy sucked in the rancid air as if remembering to breathe again and Maggie watched incredulously as the others in the huddle, their eyes opening, their postures straightening, regained sentience and began pulling at the vines. They gave easily under their small hands. Whatever this thing was, it depended on a very fragile ecosystem--no wonder it preyed on the helpless. 

Within seconds the first boy had freed himself. He helped Maggie yank the coils from the other children. Most of them seemed immediately aware of the need for silence, but one the smaller boys started whimpering, a pool of urine settling in the mass of dissolving tendrils at his feet. The first boy grabbed him before he screamed, holding his palm over his lips. 

“No. Shhhh. You know what happened to Ryan,” he said, and Maggie saw the other boy’s eyes go wide with fear. The first boy looked at Maggie. “We’ve got to get the others out.” 

“I’ll handle that,” Maggie said. “You remember how you got in?” 

He nodded and pointed to a long corridor that opened on to a ramp, likely a walkway to an old cargo deck. The bottom of the viaduct had been lazily fortified with cement to keep it from collapsing; whoever had brought them here must have tunneled their way inside. “They brought us in through there.” 

Maggie crouched down and put her hands on his shoulders. “I want you to take the others with you. See if you can find a way out. There are people on the way.”

If he hesitated, it was only for a millisecond, and Maggie couldn’t have been more relieved. As soon as that first group of children was out of sight, she heard it, something skittering above her. She glanced up to see one of those things, its narrow body slithering down through the hole she had come through. It dropped to the floor rather clumsily, the way the roaches in Gotham had once plopped from her cupboards when she was living in that rat hole apartment. The thing lurched about, likely disoriented by the lowness of the ceiling and lifted into a hover, craning its long neck in search of prey. Then another one came through the hole. And another. 

“Turpin?” she said into her radio. "Come on, Dan. Answer!" 

“Mags.” 

“Christ.” A cloud of cold air and relief left her lungs. 

“Cavalry’s here, Mags,” Turpin said. “Hold fast.” 

“Dan, send a squad down to the old entrance on the west dock. I think that’s how they got in. They might need to blast through the door. But be careful. There are kids on the other side.” 

“Got it,” he said. 

As the creatures split up, Maggie ducked behind another huddle of kids, slashing at the tendrils, watching with pleasure as they hissed and oozed, some crumbling into black ash like firework snakes. She darted behind another cluster and kept going, gutting and slicing and ripping away the coils that held the children in their thrall. As they came to, she shoved them in the direction of the ramp. Those things, she noticed, weren’t targeting the payload. Just what threatened it. Her. 

Maggie worked furiously, freeing up more children, but there were so many, and none of them were Jaime. 

“Come on, kid,” she half whispered, half prayed. “Find me.” 

Pain shot through her shoulder. One of those things had spotted her and pitched down to slash through her Kevlar jacket. It had barely broken the skin, but she could feel it already— a numbing sensation, and not unpleasant. Venom. She could still use the arm though and she raised her pistol and fired on her attacker as it darted away through the rancid air. 

“Fucking coward!” she said, and felled it just as another came from behind to leave a deeper gash in her back. 

Maggie stopped and staggered backward, feeling her torso go numb as the venom crawled through her system. She saw the ceiling weave above as she fell backward, her head smacking painfully against the damp concrete. Gasping for air, she lifted her arm, held up her knife to the dark figure now silhouetted against a blaze of white light and heat. She flinched away, squeezing her eyes shut against the intrusion, stabbing dumbly into the emptiness. She heard a blast and the crackle of electricity as the thing shrieked. Then the thud of its slimy corpse smacking the floor. 

When she opened her eyes, the ceiling was gone and the air warm and acrid with the smell of explosives. In place of that demon was a tall, helmeted woman, framed by the deep blue of encroaching dawn. She unhooked her rope, and with near balletic grace, twirled back to finish off three more of the creatures in quick, elegant succession. Not S.C.U. Although she could see a legion of them descending through the shattered roof with uniformed HOJ agents, this woman was wearing the black of the DEO. Maggie wet her lips and pressed her hands to the cold concrete, trying to push herself up, to confirm it with her blurring vision. The voice was enough. 

“Are you hurt?” the woman barked. "Can you move?"

Maggie felt her face tighten into a smile as the woman yelled into her radio, then jerkily signaled to another agent at the far end of the room. She whipped around and hurried over to Maggie, pulling the medkit from her side as she crouched to the floor. “Officer! Can you move?” she said again.

The voice was caring yet impersonal, and for a minute, Maggie entertained the idea that this was purgatory—that Alex Danvers’ not recognizing her as her life drained away was just one last joke that the multiverse was playing on her. She sucked in a shaky breath and a sharp pain rattled her chest as Alex reached over and lifted her eyelid with her thumb. 

“Just my mouth, Danvers,” Maggie said, trying to flinch away from Alex’s flashlight.

Alex Danvers froze briefly before running the light down Maggie's face. She tore off her own helmet and leaned forward to take in the woman who had just said her name. Her mouth went slack. 

“Maggie…” 

“It’s this venom, see?” Maggie said, hearing her breath rattle. “I can’t feel much.” 

“H-hold on,” Alex said. Frantically, she snapped open her medkit and plucked out a syringe. Then without ceremony, she pried the knife from Maggie’s hand and sliced a gash through the sleeve of her jacket. 

“Stay with me,” she said. “Don’t close your eyes.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Maggie said woozily. She was starting to feel warm inside, good—which was a very bad sign. Alex forced a smile back.

“Flattery,” she said. 

“Whatever works.” 

She used a cable as a tourniquet and tapped Maggie’s forearm for the vein. “This is going to be unpleasant,” she said. “I’m sorry.” 

“‘Soookay.” Maggie could barely get out an answer before Alex jabbed in the syringe. She gasped and then let out a protracted yelp as her body stiffened and juddered against the concrete. It felt like she’d been injected with a combination of nitrous oxide and liquid horse kicks as all the pain from those gashes, the bruises she’d gotten climbing down here, now reacquainted themselves in their full, sensory glory. 

Maggie saw Alex’s eyes soften with guilt and concern. She took Maggie’s hand to steady her. “It’s Techian Adrenalin," she said. "The only available antidote to 12th system anthropoid venom. Their chromosomes have been altered by an ion extant only in that system. We were able to synthesize it with concentrations...” She saw Maggie smiling up at her and stopped herself. 

“Nerd,” Maggie laughed. “Oh...” Her chest seized up in pain and she squeezed the agent’s hand.

“Hey, hey...” Alex pulled hers away gently. She leaned forward and cupped Maggie’s face, her fingers sliding down to capture the Detective's pulse. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” 

“Yeah,” Maggie said, looking up at her. “I know.”

Alex flushed a little, smiling at this old sense of intimacy.Then she cocked her head, her eyes narrowing. “W-wait. How did you—what are you _doing_ here? You didn’t tell me you transferred back to the S.C.U.” 

Still woozy from the venom, Maggie let herself press her face into Alex’s gloved hand, convincing herself she could feel the warmth beneath the soft leather covering her palm. “Could ask the same of you Danvers.”

Alex pointed at herself. “Me? I-I didn’t transfer.” 

“Neither did I,” Maggie said. 

Alex blinked at her, about to ask another question, but an explosion rattled the room. The agent rose, slipping an arm around Maggie’s back and hoisting her to her feet. “Come on. We’d better get you out of here.” 

Maggie leaned into her and allowed the taller woman to pull her up. Surprisingly, her knees didn’t buckle. “Alex?” she said, “Her mind still foggy. I need to—”

“Watch your step,” Alex said, cutting her off. 

“Alex,” Maggie repeated, more forcefully this time, but still too weak to be heard. Alex was clearly so wrapped up in the shock of seeing her that she couldn’t read the room. One of those things snapped her out of it. Wounded and flying unevenly, it lurched toward them and Alex lifted her alien gun, dispatching it with a single blast. 

“What’d I tell you," Alex said. "Best to get a move on.” 

“Alex, I need to find someone.” 

“What? You got a hot date with a flying monkey?” 

Maggie stopped, planting her feet forcefully enough for Alex to notice. The agent turned to her, her brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Thanks for the rescue, Danvers,” she said, and pushed her away. 

Maggie managed to slough Alex’s arm off her, stumbling forward toward the remaining nests of children. The HOJ agents and cops had caught on; they were helping free the kids from the tendrils, as Medivac teams in Hazmat suits surrounded those clumps in the later stages. They were already setting up quarantine tents around them and pumping in oxygen. She saw Supergirl there, standing by. The hero was grappling a pulley attached to one of the tents as she took it aloft. Likely to a HOJ medical ward. Her mind flitted unpleasantly to the very possible spats over territory that would occur between them and the DEO. The HOJ was a newly thrown together organization, and as such,was run with all the underserved swagger and stupidity of Homeland Security. The handling of quarantine alone would be a mess.

Her thoughts shifted back to Jaime and she felt a pang of desperation. What if she was in one of those tents? What if she was already too far gone? 

Alex was trailing behind her, holding her arms out as if she expected her to fall. “Maggie, wait! Don’t— “

She wasn’t able to finish her protest as the Medivac tent before them burst open in a contained eruption of screams and a splattering of blood. What emerged wasn’t a group of newly freed children, but something large, ugly and coiled like a snake. It had a proboscis, lined with six eyes that shone with an eerie yellow light that was both mesmerising and nausea inducing. Maggie thought if she kept looking into those orbs, the entire universe would funnel down inside of her. 

She stepped back, feeling the bile rise in her throat as Alex came from behind, lifting her alien gun. 

“Alex," Maggie whispered, "don’t! Those...those are...were kids." 

"No, it isn’t,” Alex said, nodding at the line of children emerging from the tent, their eyes fixed on them. “It’s their pet drone.” She tugged Maggie back by the shoulder as she fired a warning blast into the air. The thing, blood dripping from its talons, tottered forward awkwardly, almost colt like and vulnerable, until it—they spoke. 

”You haven’t stopped us.”

The voice didn't sound comprised of muscles or air, but that illusory message one got from static on snowy television set, the beadlike crackle of a Geiger counter. Maggie wondered if she and Alex were hearing the same words, the same message. 

“We have already taken the best of your progeny. Your future and have endowed them with new life. _We_ understand them. _We_ have nurtured them, endowed them with gifts that you could not.” 

“Like what?” Alex said, aiming her gun. “Scales?” 

She shot a blast at one of the thing's appendages, only managing to enrage it. 

"I am the first," it hissed. "Far from the last." 

“Could come from the most far-flung galaxy in the universe and you guys still sound like bargain rate cult leaders.” Maggie grabbed at her own gun, her sight still fuzzy, as the thing snarled and bore down on Alex. The thought intruded for a brief instant. _What if that thing was Jaime?_ before she pulled the trigger. 

She missed. 

But only because another winged figure had swung down from the sky, taking it out with a backflip and the kick of an Olympian. Not winged, Maggie corrected herself. Caped. The woman dropped from her rope over the creature and deftly presented it with a luminous green spray to the face. It didn’t get up. 

The woman smirked as she turned and dramatically wiped her hands. 

“You...” Alex said. “So, is that your thing then? Chemical warfare.” 

Alex’s eyes followed as the Batwoman strode past her to wrap Maggie Sawyer in a tight embrace. “Hey, Mags,” she said. 

“Always a sight for sore eyes,” Maggie said. 

Alex’s mouth dropped. “W-wait. You two _know_ each other?” 

Maggie ignored the question, wincing a little as Kate’s hand grazed the wound on her back. 

“Yeah,” Batwoman said. “Oh, poor Mags.” She let go and gently turned the Detective around. “You ought to have that looked at, Baby.” 

“I was...” Alex said, her voice faltering awkwardly. “ _I_ was looking at that.” 

Maggie reared back and gave Alex a look mingled with humor and tenderness. Maybe it was the venom still clouding her system, or maybe she’d just gone a little too long not having to deal with other people’s secret identities, but it slipped out anyway. “Danvers here is a double doc, Kate. Now, if you'll excuse me.” 

She made to leave again, but Alex shuffled back a step and grabbed her by the arm. She looked back and forth between Maggie and the superhero. “Kate? You’re _that_ Kate. Kate of Portofino's. Bollinger Kate.” 

Batwoman lowered her head and bit her lip, barely suppressing a smile. She pressed her hands against her legs. “Uh-ohhhh,” she said softly. 

“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” Alex said to Maggie, her eyes narrowing. 

Maggie shook her head and snorted. She folded her arms and turned to face her. “I don’t know. Anything else you feel entitled to know?” 

“Entitled?!” Alex coughed out a laugh and stepped back. “I’m the one who tried to maintain communication.” 

“When you wanted intel,” Maggie said. 

“No. No. Not just that,” Alex said, her voice rising. “I totally tried to— ” 

Maggie locked eyes with her, furious now. "This is not the time to argue, Danvers!" She froze suddenly and held up a hand to silence the agent as all three women halted, their heads cocked toward the sound of a small voice. 

“Maggie? Maggie? Are you there?” 

Alex watched as the Detective's body seemed to melt with relief and a newborn tenderness she hadn’t seen before. Wincing in pain, Maggie whipped around and staggered in the direction of the sound with Alex still stumbling behind her. 

“Maggie! Maggie, stop! You can’t push yourself like this. Where are you—”

The agent hurried after her as she came across a huddle of children. They were lined up against the wall, their small bodies wrapped in military blankets as the HOJ medics tended to them. 

“Hey!” Alex said, catching her breath. She placed a hand on Maggie's arm. “Are you even listening?” 

With more strength than she had available, Maggie once more pushed herself away from Alex. The agent watched as she Detective closed the distance between herself and a small girl who was rushing over to greet her. Maggie knelt on the concrete, wrapping her arms tightly around the child, her eyes squeezed shut as tears left grey lines in the grease paint on her face. As the child sobbed into her shoulder, a soft smudge of blue dawn light encircled them like a spotlight from above, and Alex felt herself trembling. 

“Jaime,” Maggie whispered. 

“You’re here,” the girl choked. She pulled away and ran her small fingers down Maggie's cheek. "You look weird." 

"Yeah, I'm here," Maggie laughed, her voice hitching. The girl wrapped her small arms around Maggie’s neck again and Maggie flashed that same stunning grin Alex had loved so much. 

"I thought you wouldn't find me," Jaime said. 

“I’ll always find you, kiddo,” Maggie said, burying her face in her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” 

Alex felt her knees almost buckle as she watched a woman she thought she knew transform into a virtual stranger, one with whom she didn’t even have the luxury of distance. Maggie Sawyer had never looked so tender, or so beautiful, or so goddamned brave. She remembered now, with a cold wave of shame, how much she’d dithered over _her_ feelings after the breakup-- to Kara, and the ever-gallant Sara Lance, anyone who would listen--but _this_ was what it really meant to make a mistake—the biggest one in her damned life.

As if to punctuate that thought, a cold, gloved hand pressed against her back. She turned to find Batwoman regarding her with an air of sympathy and bemusement. 

“Dear old Mags,” the hero said wryly. “Always so damned unpredictable.” 

“You can say that again,” Alex muttered. 

The superhero smiled, with genuine warmth this time, and tugged a silver flask from a pocket in her cape. “You know, Tanqueray doesn’t quite have the kick of Monster Venom, but it sure does the trick.” 

She passed it to Alex, who ‘gin girl’ or not, didn’t hesitate to take a very long swig. 


	38. Rune Code

Lena accompanied Winn and Director J'onnz to the Baldwin Hotel where a newly freed Maxwell Lord was holding court, or attempting to, while they gathered information. Having worked with Tierney on his tech ventures, she now found herself once again somewhere between a character and an expert witness, a dual identity of sorts. Ironic after what she'd just learned, was still processing. She'd been in the same role with Lex, the dark parts of her life were repeating themselves, reminding her that no matter how it looked, however much they might not _seem_ like her fault, there was something within her that drew them near, forced them to happen. 

That revelation earlier, first of Winn Schott's real connection to Supergirl, and then Lord's slip about the heroine's identity, came back like a slug to the stomach. There was no Luthor corruption involved this time, but she felt once again that she'd been unwittingly and unwillingly let in on yet another dark familial secret. 

She hadn't been alone long enough with Winn to confirm what Lord had blurted out during the interrogation. She wasn't even sure if she should try or if she wanted to, but it explained so much: about Kara's odd moods and sudden disappearances, about Supergirl's frequent and all-too-well-timed rescues. For as much as Kara Danvers had seemed to avoid her, evading her questions, pushing away the intimacy that was doggedly growing between them, Supergirl she realized, had been relentlessly present. She felt a chill run through her despite warmth in the room and pressed her fingers to her forehead, wondering if it was shock or more ominously, those strange symptoms she'd been experiencing of late. 

Maxwell Lord was standing in front of the ornately carved vanity. He ran a hand over his freshly shaved chin, cocking his head before taking a step back. He looked like he was posing for one of those ridiculous Emporium catalogues, Lena thought, feeling perversely grateful for the distraction.

The DEO had given Lord everything he'd requested, including his lawyer and a presidential suite at the Baldwin. What they wouldn't give him, however, was privacy and access to the media. Unbeknownst to Lord, the tech giant was under a cloaking device that made him look more like a doddering old statesman from a small, inconsequential country in the Balkans, and accompanied by a small army of agents. Still, he was talking.After some bad guesses-a boat house in the Maldives, a high-rise in Roppongi-- he'd coughed up Tierney's hideout: A private apartment owned by and adjacent to an Ivy League gentleman's club in Metropolis. The HOJ now had Tierney in custody, who unlike Lord, wasn't talking. 

Lord was wearing on J'onn's patience, preening in the mirror, 'regaling' them with stories about he and Tierney's youthful adventures, not a lick of them useful. 

"Mr. Lord," J'onn said, his brow furrowing into what looked very much like pain. "I fail to see why deconstructed caviar and harvested gorse are germane to our situation." 

Lord turned around, shrugging theatrically as he sauntered across the large room to take a seat in the chair across from them. "What can I say? It's been lonely down there." He bent his head and looked up at Lena with a tinge of self-pity. Lena rolled her eyes. 

"Once again," J'onn said. "May I ask you how Tierney gained access to _this_?"

Winn pushed the tablet across the glass table, and Lord leaned forward his eyes fixing on the code. He let out a horse laugh that caused both Lena and J'onn to wince.

"I thought you meant the tech- _which_ I helped design by the way. Is _this_ what you're worried about?" He pointed at the tablet as if Winn had placed a stuffed bunny in front of him. 

"I fail to see what is so funny," J'onn said. "And if you fail to provide us with the information we need, we can certainly fail to keep our agreement." 

Max stopped another laugh and took a deep breath. "Listen, I just helped him with the tech. This stuff is just part of the uh…look Tierney wants. He put a lot of research into how language improves memory, studied how it along with specific numerical patterns enhanced key areas of the brain and condensed it into this. It's essentially a kind of mnemonic Esperanto based on some of his nutty beliefs." 

"You know what he based the orthography on then," J'onn said. 

Lord smirked back at his interrogators. He reached over and took a can of Doctor Pepper from an ice bucket on the table and popped it open with a loud hiss. "You're really worried about Alistair's _Magic the Gathering_ font?" 

"Yes," Lena said, her patience dissipating. "We are. Do tell." 

J'onn and Winn blinked at the CEO in surprise as Lord lifted a finger as if about to divulge some ancient wisdom. "Alistair's smart. Almost as smart as I am, I'll admit, but like a lot of smart guys, Isaac Newton, Einstein, he's also a bit touched in the head." 

"You think Einstein was touched?" said Lena. "Really?" 

"He believed the apocalypse was coming. Even had a date set." 

"That was Newton," Lena said, a note of sourness and exhaustion in her voice.

Lord ignored her. "Look, I met Tierney at Oxford. I'd given them an endowment for the design of an orbital supercollider. He was helping spearhead the project. Like me, he was self-made, an outsider, and he didn't fit well into the crusty, overly class-conscious vibe in that place. Neither did I. We spent a lot of time together at the pubs talking about our ambitions, our ideas. Alistair wasn't rich then. He was picking my brain for how to get there, and I took a lot of his insights back to my work at Lord Tech. I loved that guy like a little brother, but he could get weird. He'd get drunk and talk about the dark arts, Alistair Crowley, chaos magic. He told me that was how he'd made it to where he was, that he'd used the 'mystical arts' to enhance his intelligence." 

"That's certainly not the story he tells at TED," Winn said. 

"Look, he had a tough childhood. Not as tough as mine, maybe, but," and Lord pressed his fingers around the can, causing it to dent. "He lost his parents, too. He didn't have enough to eat, no shoes…"

"Whereas you had inherited money and a Ferrari at 16," Lena said. "Oh yes, your story is far more tragic."

"It's all relative," Lord said. "Anyway, he told me when he was a kid, he got piled on by a bunch of thugs. They drove him out to the Yorkshire countryside and dumped him bleeding in the middle of a pasture. He'd made it to a nearby farmhouse. That's where he met the Don." 

"The Don?" J'onn said. 

"That's what he called him. Said the old man took him in, raised him like a son. That it was the old man who taught him…what did he call it? The 'rune code.' Now that's some silly Lord of the Rings shit right there.'" He gestured at the screen. "That's what he designed this after. He said it was going to help him take over the world someday." He exhaled. "But I understand. When the usual channels, like the church or the government inevitably fail you, sometimes you fall back on some pretty crazy stuff to keep you going." Lord chuckled and shook his head, his expression sobering when he saw the others' expressions. "Wait a minute. You're saying there's something to this?" 

"That is not what we're saying," J'onn said, not too convincingly, for it was obvious from Lord's shrewd expression that the wheels were turning; he was already making plans. 


	39. Proximity

Maggie worried the edges of her coffee cup as she sat next to Jaime's bed. With a little help from Superman, Alex and Kara had managed to get Jaime a bed in the HOJ sickbay rather than the crowded, impersonal quarantine center hastily set up outside the city. Jaime had been asleep for fifteen hours now and was being hydrated via IV as a medical drone hovered above, scanning for any changes in the girl's condition. The child was exhausted, but healthy, the doctors had said; None of the blood work, MRIs, and EKGs had turned up any anomalies--other than those clearly visible on her arms and the back of her neck. 

That strange code was gone now, but in its place were tiny nodes, as small as the twin punctures left by a cat's bite, and inconspicuous, if not for their symmetry, if not for that strange grey-green hue that let off a glow as Maggie dimmed the lights in the room. Maggie had checked on them every few hours, hoping for signs of shrinkage and fearing its opposite. They remained, from what she could see, dormant. 

A tiny sigh started her from her worries and she looked down to see Jaime, already lifting her head and regarding the Detective with a groggy expression. 

"Hey," Maggie said. She smiled gamely and scooted her chair closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?" She reached over to run a hand over Jaime's hair, surprised at the spontaneity of the action. Jaime stretched and backed up against her pillows, propping herself up into a sitting position." 

"Hungry," she said. "Really hungry." 

A good sign, Maggie thought, until she remembered the movie _Alien_. "Yeah?" she said. "I think we can take care of that." 

"Do you think I can have a grilled cheese?" Jaime said. "And some fries?" 

"Whatever you want," Maggie said, thinking that moment that if she needed to drag in a Lantern to conjure up a hotplate for her to make them herself, she was going to do it. She reached over and pressed the call button. "Chocolate shake?"

"Yeah," Jaime said, managing a smile that sent a beam of warmth through Maggie's chest. She leaned down and picked up the package she'd placed next to her chair. 

"I thought you might get bored in here," she said. "I brought these." She pulled out a stack of comic books and an issue of MAD Magazine, grinning as the girl's eyes lit up and two dimples appeared in her cheeks.

"Uncle Oscar never would never let me read that," she said, snatching up the contraband and rifling through the pages. 

"Me neither," Maggie said. "And wait, that's not all." She picked up a small, battery powered shortwave and placed it in front of the child. "The Winter League's got a game on in Santiago at three o'clock. La Romana vs. Tigres del Licey. Thought if you're not tired, we could listen."

"Oh, I'm not tired," Jaime said. "Put me down for La Romana." She picked up the radio and began fiddling with the dials. "This is old. Like from the 80s. It's neat." 

Maggie felt a small surge of pride over the girl's quick observation. The radio was still in newish condition. She'd picked it up at a pawnshop that morning when the doctors had shooed her out for some tests. "You can pick up a lot of different stations on these things. They were useful, still are in places where people can't get news from the rest of the world." She switched it on and turned the dial slowly until a voice crackled through, announcing the weather in a rapid staccato. Jaime narrowed her eyes, listening intently. "I can make out some of it. Some of the words are Spanish." 

"It's Romanian. Same family. Italian, too." 

"Did you go there?" Jaime asked. 

Maggie nodded. "A few times. It's a beautiful place." 

Jaime looked at her suspiciously. "Really? Even Transylvania?" 

"That, too," Maggie laughed. "It's not what you think. A lot of forests and green. There are old castles and fortresses, and you can see the Carpathian mountains stretch across the sky." 

Jaime wasn't buying it. "What about Dracula?" 

Maggie laughed a little nervously. However, adorable the girl's naiveté, she didn't want the conversation to turn morbid. "I did go to his house. Or the place he was born. It's actually a restaurant now." 

Her attempt to deescalate backfired when Jaime sat up, her eyes wide with excitement. "Do they serve blood?" And Maggie, despite her concern, couldn't help herself with that one. She leaned back and guffawed. "No. Although, a lot of meat. Close enough."

"Detective Sawyer!" 

The two of them went silent as the HOJ medic came scowling into the room. 

"Hey," Maggie said. "Thanks for coming so fast. She needs to eat something. Do you-"

"Ma'am, we can't have any communications technology in the room with this child." The medic stared at the radio like it might explode. 

"Wait. This is just a radio," Maggie said. 

"Regardless," the medic said. "Even a one-way communications device can compromise security. I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate that." 

Maggie snorted. "What? You think she's going to rewire it and transmit the security blueprint?" 

The medic sighed and walked over to snatch the radio from Jaime's hands. The child started as he did so and Maggie felt her fist balling around a rolled up comic book. The medic switched the radio off.

"I could have you brought up on charges for even joking about that, Detective." 

"Agent Kampfer. What's going on?" 

They both looked up to see Alex Danvers strolling swiftly across the room, cutting the medic down the middle with that withering look she reserved for interrogation subjects--or Winn. 

"Director Danvers, she can't have this in here," Kampfer said. "It's part of qua-"

"The only thing that needs to be quarantined is your attitude, Agent."

The medic was stunned into silence. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his white coat and muttered, "Ma’am, I'm going to have to report this." 

Alex folded her arms and closed the distance between them. "Oh, please do. Go right ahead, Agent Kampfer. Just remember that despite our lack of a presence here in Metropolis, the HOJ is barely more than a newly formed branch of the DEO. And as such, we have jurisdiction over…" She threw her hand up in a limp gesture of indifference, "this. Now, why don't you make yourself useful and go get this girl something to eat. She's been asleep for what? 15 hours?" 

"Yes, Director Danvers," the medic said. He was slumping into his jacket now, a full centimeter shorter.

Maggie looked at Alex in surprise. So, she had been waiting, too; keeping her distance, but counting the hours until Jaime woke up.

Alex smiled at Jaime. "What would you like?"

"A grilled cheese," Jaime said, thoroughly emboldened by Alex's show of fierceness. "And a chocolate shake. And fries. With hot sauce.”

Alex grinned. "You know, I don't think they have shakes here. But there's a Big Belly about a block from headquarters. I'm sure Agent Kampfer will be more than happy to stop by." She turned back to him, eyebrow raised, and the medic turned on his heel and fled from Alex's icy glare. 

"Thanks," Maggie said. "The DEO was hard enough sometimes, but these guys." She glanced over at Jaime who was regarding this new interloper with a mixture of admiration and interest. "Jaime," Maggie said, "this is Agent Alex Danvers. She helped save your life." 

"Wow!" Jaime said. "Really?" 

"Yeah, really, " Maggie said more firmly. "What do you say?" 

"Thank you," Jaime said, giving Alex a shy wave. "And thank you for getting rid of that guy. And for making him go get me the chocolate shake. That was awesome!”

"My pleasure," Alex said, coloring slightly. She shot a pointed glance at Maggie. "But Maggie got to you first. You know, it was really _pretty_ amazing how she found you like she did."

If Jaime sensed any hidden meaning in the agent's voice, she didn't show it. Instead, she smiled at Maggie as if Alex had merely confirmed the truth. "She is," Jaime said, “Amazing.” 

Alex looked away, her near glare softening into thoughtfulness. "Detective Sawyer. Can I talk to you for minute? Outside?" 

Maggie followed her into the corridor, already rehearsing a hundred responses to that last interaction, but when the door closed, Alex didn't pry her with questions. She turned and smiled gently and said, "She's a beautiful girl. I'd have thought she was yours if I didn't know better." 

Maggie looked down, her eyes fixated on the cold grey tiles that lengthened their shadows under the lights. Then she raised her head, a strand of dark hair falling over one eye as she smiled as casually as she could. "She is mine, Alex. My aunt Luisa passed away." 

A long silence passed between them and Maggie tried to distract herself with the familiar scent of Alex's shampoo, that light perfume that was now clouding her head with memories. _Say something_ , she thought. 

"So, you're going to adopt her?" Alex said finally. 

Maggie looked through the observation glass and sighed, not out of frustration, but in an attempt to pace her words. She needed to tell Alex this, but she had to remember that things were different between them. That this didn’t change things in the slightest. "I'm all she has other than my parents, which…you know…" She felt a sudden pang of guilt for having entertained the idea of leaving the kid to Oscar and Elena. “I doubt they’d be very good at it.”

To Maggie's surprise, Alex didn't respond with a flurry of questions or remonstrations. Instead, the agent looked down and bit her bottom lip, nodding rapidly, almost to herself as if she had fallen upon some cutting realization. Maggie, usually more comfortable with silence, now felt her pulse rising, a rare rush of nerves that shot like ice through her throat and her fingertips. She heard herself starting to babble, Alex-like, in her need to fill the silence. "They wanted to keep me from her. They were going to take her and she ran away. I didn't see it. I was so stupid. So, so stupid." she said, gesturing to the girl through the window. "I'm guess I’m not very good at this either." 

Alex shot a hand up and closed her eyes. She let out a breath and said, "D-don’t say that. You just saved her life. That's not exactly a failing grade." 

"Thanks, Danvers," Maggie said, feeling her face color, feeling her heart rate lull slightly until she saw Alex thumbing away a tear.

"I just--I think you'll be great at it," Alex said, as if picking up her lead. "You're good at everything." 

Maggie reached up to brush her fingers across the taller woman's cheek, but she stopped herself. Instead, she placed a comradely hand on Alex's shoulder. "Rough day?" 

"Yeah...yeah," Alex said. She looked up at the ceiling and took in a sharp breath. "Long day. Long couple of weeks." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Anyway, I didn't want to intrude, but Winn's come through with more intel. This wasn't the only nest. He and Lena Luthor have cobbled together some tech to help us locate the beacons, but we can't get to them all. Not in time." 

"There are more of those things," Maggie said, feeling her stomach lurch. “Would have been too damned easy.” 

Alex half nodded, half shook her head in disgust. "Meanwhile, the HOJ seems hell-bent on slowing progress by bickering with the DEO. Superman, Kara, and a couple others in the Justice League have set up a makeshift taskforce on our own. We're working with Winn and J'onn remotely and we were...we were hoping you would join us. You got to the nest before we did. We could use your help." 

"My leave runs out in a week," Maggie said. 

"I can have J'onn put a word in with the NCPD," Alex said. "Besides, I doubt either the DEO or HOJ will want Jaime leaving here anytime soon." 

Maggie stepped back. "What does that mean?" 

Alex held up her hand to calm her, but the gesture came off as hostile. “Alex!” Maggie said. 

"It means,” the agent said,”that we're worried about her, Maggie. About all of them. Those kids, the ones that transformed. They can't remember who they are. They can't even speak in their own language. We've got alien translators trying to make out what they're saying. And they're not them. They don't recognize their parents, and their parents are recoiling from them. It's like these other entities have taken over their bodies." 

Maggie felt a cold sweat break as she listened to Alex speak. "We need to keep Jaime and the rest of those kids under strict observation until we can be certain they won't turn. It's not--it's not to control them, Maggie. We need to keep them alive." 

But the word 'turn' had recalled Jaime's question about vampires, and suddenly Maggie was back in that ugly place, surrounded by monstrous creatures, watching Jaime's soul slip away into darkness. 

"Alex..." she said. She felt her knees going limp and pressed her palms against the glass for support. She didn't need to: Alex Danvers slipped an arm around her and let Maggie settle against her weight. 

"I'm sorry, Maggie. I'm so sorry. Can we count you in?" 

Maggie leaned into the other woman, but she couldn't meet her eyes. Alex's sudden proximity, the warmth of her body was an old truth encroaching on a newer, horrific reality—both of them vying to swallow her up. 


	40. For you tread on my dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and the likely typos. Trapped in the end of the semester grading hole, not quite as fun as the phantom zone.

A cold wave had torn through Metropolis, coating the sidewalks with ice and postponing the reopening of all public schools. It was good timing. Around the city, not to mention other parts of the country, Tierney's tech was quietly being confiscated by police and federal agents. The cover story called it a recall, claimed that bad wiring in the devices had turned those little genius makers into a bona-fide fire hazard. Kara Danvers wasn't happy about that. 

She sat across from Clark and Alex in the Justice League library, the three of them basking in the real warmth of an illusory fire as they sipped hot tea and argued in quiet tones. Alex had spiked her own with whiskey and was closing her eyes, trying to drown out the dispute. It was always the same with those two, she thought. Clark was unfailingly polite, albeit overly self-assured, while Kara pushed like a child, all the while resenting having to be one. She was supposed to get to earth first, after all. 

"I understand, Kara," Clark said. "You forget I'm a journalist, too. I know it's an itch to get a story like that out there, but J'onn's right. We can't compromise what little information we have. It could expose us. Endanger those kids." 

"But Lois and I have a strategy," Kara said. 

"You've got Lois in on this, too?" Clark said, looking a little discomfited.

Kara lowered her eyes and smirked. "We've been…talking." 

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd spent the last ten hours in the lab and she felt like her brain had been locked in a vice. Two more nests had been discovered; one near Arkham and one outside of Dawesport, but there'd been little to no progress on how to return those kids'…souls… for lack of a better word-nor what to do if the other children proceeded to turn. 

And what about Maggie? Yes, Maggie, who'd managed to show up here, in Metropolis, smack in the middle of an alien conspiracy that Alex and Clark had been barely even aware existed? She told herself it was _this_ aspect that riled her. It had _nothing_ to do with Maggie changing her mind about being a parent. Or that Alex couldn't even be certain that this crisis had precipitated that decision. After all, Maggie hadn't attempted contact, not after her aunt died, or when Jaime disappeared, or even she was deep down in some dark, muddy hell pit, half dead from some alien poison. 

They looked so right together. Jaime had Maggie's dark eyes, a lighter version of that mane of beautiful hair, and that cynical, take-no-prisoners expression. There had been _one_ difference. Alex saw it in the way the girl's eyes shone as Alex told off Agent Kampfer, in how she reacted to Maggie's attention, and to Alex herself. This was something that didn't come naturally to Maggie, something she had to force down like a kid downing cough medicine. 

Trust. 

For a time, before her 'epiphany' at Ruby's concert tossed everything they’d worked for into the sun, Alex thought she'd spied that look on Maggie’s face. She’d seen it in the occasional smile and the way she was offering up just a little bit more about her past. Now, all that trust was gone; even as Alex had held her awkwardly in the corridor, all the while wanting to sink her face into the other woman's hair and never let go, Maggie had pulled away, and given her a polite almost perfunctory "thanks." 

"Kara," Clark's voice cut into her reverie. "Listen. I'm all for you and Lois working together, but right now, we can't even get Tierney to talk and we're no closer to tracking down the source of that rune code." 

"How is Tierney anyway?" Alex looked up suddenly, her tone caustic. 

"Not talking," Clark said. "Sullen. Except when threatening with his lawyers. About what you'd expect." 

"Oh, I can get him to talk," Alex said. 

Clark looked down at her in consternation and Kara smiled, reaching over to gently push Alex's mug closer to her lips. "We've got this, Honey. You need to rest." 

Brows pinched, Alex looked at her sister, saw Kara mouth the words 'don't go there' to her and nodded reluctantly. 

"None for the wicked," Alex said. She put the mug to her lips and drank it down. The whiskey burned, loosening a shard of memory-- one of the HOJ doctors had been talking about the children's sleeping patterns. No stage one or stage two NREM stages, just a straight drop into NREM 3 or 4. They surmised that whatever had taken them over needed to repair the damage it was doing to the host body. But that felt too easy, Alex thought. A line of poetry flashed through her mind. 

_Drink not of those waters to forget your sorrows. Let me drown you with my own. And make you whole._

It was from ancient text Diana had given her from the Archives of Zagortha. "Let me drown you with my own..." she whispered. 

Kara turned to her. "Drowning your sorrows, Alex? Am I going to have to tuck you in?“

"No," Alex said. She shook her head and pushed herself up from her chair, snatching her jacket from the arm. Kara started to speak, but Alex whipped around to silence her, her eyes intent on the flames curling up from the fireplace. "Sorry. It's just I really need to hold this thought." 

Before Kara could ask, her phone buzzed and she got up as well, turning away from them as she pressed the phone to her ear. 

_They're not repairing damage,_ Alex thought. She turned to Clark, almost sneering at herself for not realizing it sooner. "I thought that six-eyed monster was a little too MST." 

"Alex?" Clark said.

Kara came back into the conversation, her face slightly pale and her voice unsteady. "That was Lena. She's in town." But her evident distress went unnoticed. Alex started muttering to herself, pacing back and forth on the library's ornate Alteekian carpet. Then she stopped, raised a finger, and turned. "Clark, you said you had shard of the dreamstone at the Fortress? Do you? Still?" 

"I...should hope so," he said, a hint of understanding washed over his features. 

"Can I borrow it?" Alex said. A smile lit up her face for the first time in days. "Those kids aren't lost. I think I know how to reach them." 


	41. Some Other Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delayed update. Grading. Cold. Mild Supercorp angst on the horizon.

Lena waited for Kara at a back table in the Maximillian Club, an exclusive, 200-year-old fortress against progress--and for its first 170 years, women. She inherited the membership after Lex's was forfeited due to his incarceration. Normally, she would shun a dinosaur like this, but she wanted somewhere discrete, and maybe an atmosphere that might throw Kara off guard. 

As expected, Kara Danvers looked entirely out of place amid the dark wood and worn leather upholstery. Armored in a lavender blazer and argyle sweater, she fought her way through the tinkle of polished silver and the thick cloud of cigar smoke that accented the club's sepia-toned conservatism. 

She looked so vulnerable, Lena noted, the way she clutched her handbag to her body as if she thought one of the waiters might snatch it away. Lena had believed in that vulnerability, had been profoundly touched and changed by it; now she felt a fresh pang of hurt at having been played. Their eyes met and Lena felt that twinge loosen slightly. In the background, Blossom Dearie sang, entirely unruffled, about loss.

_Where has the time all gone to...Haven't done half the things we want to..._

Lena forced the brightest smile she could, waving Kara over as she picked up a cigar and lit up.

Kara squinted at her, rearing back slightly as she placed her handbag carefully on the table. "That’s new."

Lena took a long puff of the cigar and turned her head to the side, blowing the smoke in the other direction. It tasted of peat and fruit. "I imagine there are quite a few things you don't know about me," Lena said, "and vice versa."

Kara smiled primly, ignoring the tone. "I'm sorry I took so long." 

"Yes," Lena said. "You usually arrive so damned quickly." 

She placed the cigar down in an ashtray and poured them both glasses of scotch from a crystal tumbler that looked like it could have been stolen from Warren Harding's liquor cabinet. 

"I'm on the job," Kara said. 

"Yes," Lena said, raising her arm in a sweeping gesture. "You are. And I'm your boss." She leaned forward and pushed the glass in front of Kara. 

Kara smiled nervously. "Lena, what is this? Why are you in Metropolis?" 

Lena picked up the cigar and took another drag. "I wanted to check on the story. How is Tierney handling this? The recall? Must be quite a shock." She raised her head and looked at Kara attentively as the younger Danvers looked down. 

"Well, that's the thing," Kara said. "We can't seem to locate him." 

"Oh? I thought he was locked up," Lena said. Kara raised her head and stared at her, eyes wide. 

She'd been right. Winn hadn't had the guts to tell her about Maxwell Lord's unfortunate run of the mouth, or perhaps, even more insulting, Winn also thought Lena oblivious. She filed that away— rely on Winn's dogged avoidance of conflict.

"He _is_ in DEO custody. Is he not?" Lena said leaned forward, brows furrowing, but the tone was in no way innocent. 

Kara shrugged. "How would _I_ know that?" 

"Wrong answer, Kara," Lena said. "You're a reporter."

Kara's eyes flashed with hurt and confusion and Lena felt her stomach lip. She didn't like putting Kara through this, but the other part of her, the part that hurt, wanted to lash out.

Kara reached up and pushed her glasses up, seeming to fold in on herself as she did so. "If you don't want me on this story, Lena, I—" 

Lena tossed back the rest of her scotch. She reached over and touched Kara's wrist. "No…no, I just thought Supergirl might have…" 

She clasped Kara's hand, her fingers gaining purchase on the other woman's glasses as she tugged them away from her face. Kara's body seemed to go slack as she stared at her, and Lena could feel her resisting, weakly, "that _you_ might have some idea."

Kara jerked back, her mouth opening. She tried to laugh it off. "Lena. Hey...What is this. This—“

Lena's voice was laced with anger. "Don't, Kara. Just fucking don't.” 

There was something in Lena's tone, an edge, that stilled the other woman immediately. It was as if her words, spoken in just that way, had broken through some barrier. Kara snatched her glasses back, but it was less an attempt at a save than an act of acquiescence. 

"I was at the DEO and someone let it slip,” she said. She looked up at the ceiling and blinked back a tear. “But I think I knew before that. The way you, or that other you, always appeared when I needed you, but this you..” and her voice broke, “is always so far away.” Lena swallowed and felt her heart rabbiting in her chest. This shouldn't have been so easy, but Kara Danvers wasn't even trying anymore. Kara sank her face into her hands as she looked down at the cigar, now extinguished in the crystal ashtray. Then, as if making a decision, she straightened, her face shifting into that serious, attentive expression Supergirl used on reporters or crime victims. 

To keep you and everyone else I _love_ safe.”She held up a hand. It was shaking. "I _can_ explain this to you...if you give me a chance." 

Lena poured herself another finger and steadied her voice. "I've heard that more times than you can count, Kara." 

Kara sank back into her chair and closed her eyes; her lips were trembling. "Then, I'm sorry." She lifted her hands to her face and slipped her glasses back on.

Lena bolstered herself with another sip and put it down. Then she sat back, arms folding across her chest as she shifted into professional mode almost fast as Kara did Supergirl. Another parallel between them. 

"Your lack of trust in me hurts,” Lena said, “but I have to respect it. In fact, I’ve come expect it from people as a matter of course. Why should you have been different?” She saw Kara bite her lip, her expression wan and wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort her, to pull her to her right in the middle of all this ludicrous masculine opulence, but the other side, the angry side was winning out. She couldn’t let that side win. “That’s not really why I’m here anyway,” she said. “I know what Tierney's plan is." 

In the silence, Blossom finished her song. 

_Oh, well._

_We'll catch up some other time._


	42. Unhook the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of a character from the J.S.A. Consider their two worlds smooshed.

Turpin took Maggie to a warm dingy bar a block away from the Hall of Justice. It was the first time they'd had some time to sit down and talk after the raid on the Laforet viaduct. Since then, he'd been leading his officers on an emergency task force that had gotten harder now with the HOJ's involvement. 

Maggie sat in a back booth, watching as he carried over two pints of IPA to their table. His face was bruised, she saw, and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. 

"That looks good on you," she said, leaning back to regard him. "That grey just cuts away the man-child." 

He touched his hair self-consciously, until she nodded lower and his hand brushed over his chin. "Caught me getting old?" 

"We all are," Maggie said. "Never thought I'd turn 33, but here I am." She shrugged. "And still single." 

Turpin slid the beer across the table to her and lifted his own pint. "To being single." 

Maggie took a long sip before she realized what he was saying. "Wait. You and Gina? Shit, Dan. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," he said. "You know, she thought I was talking about a video game when I told her what went down that night?" He shook his head and chuckled, but it was a laugh tinged with exhaustion. "I kept saying 'Gina, no it's real. You've seen Superman. You've done publicity work for The Lantern Christmas Choir and the Titans Charity Ball, and you know what she said?" He made his voice high. "Those are Supah-heros, Dan. I can get behind Supah-heroes, but this, this is some real crazy made up bullshit." 

Maggie sniggered. "You should have brought her a tentacle. Put it in her sock drawer." 

"I really should have." Turpin took another sip of beer and looked up at the large neon sign that hung over their table. The blue light bled across his skin. "They try to make you feel like _you're_ the kid in the relationship, you know?

"Yeah," Maggie said. "I had that same thing with Rebecca. Remember her? Before Alex. It was like she just glossed over the 'science' part in the NCPD. I could talk to her about paper work or a drug bust, but alien thermal weaponry and fight clubs and she'd act like I'd just introduced her to my imaginary friend." She felt a knot in her stomach. Alex had never made her feel like that. They could talk about Rimborian grifting techniques and that incredible dessert Brian had brought them from Vendresh-7 well into the night. "I guess that's how they cope."

Turpin downed the rest of his pint and signaled for another. "I sure miss talking to you, Mags." 

"Me, too." Maggie ran her finger along the edge of her glass, tracing a line in the condensation. There was a long silence between them.

How's the kid?" Turpin asked finally.

"Fine, so far," Maggie said. She exhaled slowly. "Seems more like herself than she was back in Halterville. A lot more energy. No crazy trances like before," she paused and looked at him. "Doctors did a biopsy on those marks on her arms." 

"They find anything?" he said. 

Maggie knew Turpin needed the intel. HOJ wasn't sharing and the S.C.U. Labs would take at least week to get back any of their own results. 

"What they tell me doesn't sound life threatening. Yet," she heard her voice shake slightly. "But it isn't pretty either. Those things on her skin have melded with her molecular structure. And those other kids..." 

He leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. Maggie bit her lip and looked away.

"You'll figure this out. You always do." It was a cliche, but Turpin's voice was also calming, methodical. What she needed. "What about that thing the Batwoman took down?" he asked. 

Maggie shrugged. "Don't know. It's down in a tank somewhere. Probably being studied by the weapons division. Those other kids are bad, Dan. Like Midwich Cuckoos bad." 

"We'll get through this, Mags," Turpin said. "I fucking swear it.

Their second beers came along with a bowl of popcorn. Maggie reached in and took a handful, crushing them between her fingers before popping one in her mouth. It was stale, but salty and she felt her stomach growl in response. She needed to eat. Hadn't since the night before.She pulled a small paper menu stained with wine from atop the napkin dispenser and took a look. 

"Fuck, I'm going to eat meat again," she whispered to herself. The beer was hitting her hard.

Turpin reached into his pocket and pulled out a sachet, tugged together with a small golden braid.

"Don't tell me you're going to propose again," Maggie said as he passed it to her. She opened it and an object rolled out across the table, a golden orb with the patterns of a few unrecognizable constellations etched around it in blue. It made a slight humming sound as it danced against the rough wood of the table, reminding her of those crystal orbs she'd seen sold in street markets in Bangkok.

"What is it?" She picked it up and cupped it in her hand. She expected the metal to feel warm, but it tingled as it rolled over her skin. 

"It's for Jaime," Turpin said. "A couple of years back, I worked liaison in cracking down on an extortion racket in Opal City. Got this as thanks from a guy who owns a pawnshop there. Says it's alien. A good luck charm of sorts that can alter probabilities for the better or some such hooey. I know it sounds crazy, but I'd like for her to have it." 

Maggie swallowed. "Really?" 

He shrugged and sipped his beer, wiping a bit of foam from his bottom lip. "Nah, I've always felt a little guilty about toying this pagan alien stuff. Good Catholic boy, you know. But I've had a few interesting experiences with it. It might just be of help." 


	43. Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Traveling a bit. More on the way, but wanted to update.

From the observation room, Alex Danvers watched her sister pace back and forth before Alistair Tierney. He was doing his best to look cool, his face a mask of smugness, betrayed only by the way he squatted in the corner of the room, his shoulders slumped and ankles trembling. Kara, for her part, was treading hard enough to send vibrations through the floor into the next room, almost tickling the soles of Alex's feet through the thick heels of her boots. Kara's head was down as she spoke to him, her gestures swift and broad, but it was her expression, when she could catch a glimpse, that concerned the agent. There was something hard about it, something Alex hadn't seen a hint of since Kara was infected with Red Kryptonite-contempt. 

"Charitable, Mr. Tierney," Kara said, tilting her head. "I never liked you, you know." 

Tierney lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. "I don't think we've met, Supergirl. Or have we?"

Kara sneered and took a step back. "I couldn't exactly escape you. Hearing all about your saving the children with disabilities and broken homes, how you were going to raise them out of poverty once and for all." 

Tierney laughed and shook his head slowly. "Maybe you're envious. I mean, you can keep a building from falling down on them, but you can't keep them away from minimum wage jobs and incarceration. Oh, you see, that would be complicated, now wouldn't it?" 

Kara lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar. Alex, watching through the two-way mirror, steeled herself from barging in. This wasn't like Kara, but her sister had told her she could break him, that Lena had told her something so very important before she'd stomped her way down to the detainment level. 

"Oh, yes," she said, lifting him up by the collar of his shirt. He was wearing the scratchy, canvass prison uniforms of the HOJ, which fortunately wouldn't tear. "You were raising them out of poverty, and it was working so, so well. They would have reached the heights in wealth, in status, become doctors, lawyers, politicians, heads of the CDC, diplomats who would have spread out all over the world. You…" she pulled him closer, still keeping him aloft, "would have had your fingers in the mud everywhere." 

Tierney's arms flailed at her, an attempt to bat away her accusation, but he looked like a cat being lifted into a bathtub. "It's the same with you people. You can't believe that a man would want to make a profit and do good at the same time." 

Kara rolled her eyes. "On Krypton, we called people like you kregruthanie," Kara said. "In earth speak it means you're one of those self-aggrandizing males who hollers through a bullhorn on Facebook every time you donate to ten bucks to Kiva. Believe me. I've dealt with self-aggrandizing 'hero' types before. Your only motive is yourself." 

Alex heard the veiled reference to Mon-El and stifled a cheer. Maybe Kara wasn't quite herself, but she was glad to see this show of insight, even if it was coming from somewhere dark. Sometimes you needed the darkness to protect yourself, especially from manipulators. 

"You know why you picked those kids?" Kara said, "You picked the ones with attention problems because you figured out that it _wasn't_ an inability to pay attention. They were being distracted by something very real, something reaching them through undetectable wavelengths in an undetectable language. You were creating a whole army of sleeper agents, people you could easily control once they got into position for you, say ten, fifteen years down the road." She dropped him back into the corner, and he winced as his shoulder slammed against the concrete. "You were grooming them, weren't you? You'd position them and then all you had to do was..." Kara pulled a small device from her cape and switched it on. It let out a hum, barely audible to everyone except Tierney. Slowly, he reached up, and holding his hands to his ears, let out a wail. Kara casually strolled up to him and stepped on his foot, pressing it down as he screamed some more, a his eyes bulging with newfound revelation. 

"Yeah," Kara said. "See what you've done?" 

This was too much. Alex unlocked the door to the cell and hurried inside. "Supergirl!" she cried out. The Kryptonian ignored her. She was leaning over Tierney, shoving the device in his face. 

"So, this little thing..." Kara said. "Lena Luthor helped you with the prototype. It speaks to them and it speaks to you. Where did you learn such a pretty little language?" 

"I didn't know!" Tierney said. "I didn't know!" 

"Know what?" 

"I wanted to help them! Really, I did! I didn't know this was going to happen." 

Alex hurried behind her sister and slipped her arms around Kara's waist. She pulled gently, certainly force would not have worked, and felt a wave of relief as Kara stepped back, her hand covering Alex's, as she breathed heavily.

"It's okay…" she whispered to her sister. "I've got this." Kara switched off the device and Tierney's hands went from his ears to his face. His head sank as he began blubbering. 

"Tell me about the 'Don,'" Kara said, gentler this time. "Who was he?" 

Tierney choked, "I don't know. I never knew. He's gone by the way. Left me with the books when I went off to school. He was the only father I ever had." 

"The books," Alex said. "And do you still have them." 

To their surprise, he simply nodded and continued whimpering. "In a vault in the sublevel of my estate on Sark. You'll need the code." He looked up at the two of them, pleading. "Honestly, I didn't know this would happen. I didn't know about those things. That wasn't what Skyhook was about." 

A few minutes later, Alex caught up to Kara as she hurried toward the exit. "Hey! What was that back there? Are you okay?" 

Kara stopped and closed her eyes, she leaned against the wall and inhaled. "I made a mistake, Alex." 

"Wait, wait, wait…" Alex said. "You got him to talk. We've actually got a chance now, you--" She looked down and saw Kara's fingers bunching in her cape. 

"W-with Lena. She found out. About me." 

Alex smiled, not understanding. "And she still helped you, right? I mean I wouldn't worry about that. Lena's proven herself trustworthy by now. Certainly, more dependable than Winn." 

"It's not about that." Kara's eyes met hers and it struck Alex how exhausted she looked, how world weary and humanly depressed. Her eyes were red and misting slightly. "I've hurt her, Alex. Immeasurably.I...I don't think I've ever felt this...bad doesn't even come close to describing it." She folded her arms and sank into herself. "I don't think I've..." her voice broke, "felt this...I've ruined things with us. I'm afraid that what I've done is irrevocable."

Alex let out a long, slow breath. She had seen it in Kara, the looks she had given to the CEO, that way she'd get flustered around her. She'd noticed it enough to even tease Kara about it-subtly, of course, while all the while, she told a different story to herself: Alex was simply enjoying her own newfound skill at deciphering the codes and the cultural cadences of the world coming out had opened to her. And sure, Kara's behavior around Lena may have broadcast that coded queerness with all the sound and flourish of an R.K.O. radio tower, but Alex was new at this, after all. Kara's fumbles and starry eyed looks must have been the stuff of her own projection. Now, she could only look at her sister with a mix of empathy and consternation. It was clear now. Kara was seeing something new in herself, while Alex was facing a mirror, staring down that same emotional turmoil she'd experienced when Maggie Sawyer had cockily presented herself on the tarmac over a year ago. Alex reached up and squeezed her sister's shoulders, pulling her into a hug. "Nothing is irrevocable," she said, and while she said this, she thought about Maggie--Maggie who had walked right back into her life and was now two floors above her, caring for a child she swore she'd never want. 


	44. That Last Day by the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for the delay. I was waylaid with a cold and nonfiction writing deadline. Fun times. Mostly plotty, but wanted to update. More coming tomorrow night-- Sanvers and Supercorp scenes with a little Greek mythology from our favorite Amazon mixed in.

"We ready?" Superman said. "Alex?" 

He cast a perplexed glance over at the agent, who was staring, bleary-eyed into the monitor as it flickered in between states of snow and brief flashes of color. They had been working all morning trying to calibrate the Kryptonian tech he'd brought from the Fortress with the HOJ's comparatively stone age computers.

"It's kind of like," she'd said to Jonathan, "trying to hook blue tooth up to a UHF cable via string and a piece of tape."

"Blue tooth?" Jon said. "You can do better than that."

Alex had given him a mock punch. "Oh, ho, Buster. You try to do get these things on the same wavelength."

Jon had walked up to the console on the other side, the one from which Kryptonian crystals protruded like a Mr. Wizard experiment gone mad, and plucked one out between thumb and forefinger. The computer screen shot into focus, a sea of green grass and a sailboat flickered across the monitor.

She turned to him. "H-how did you know how to do that?"

"Dad taught me," the boy said. He peered into the monitor, blinking in disbelief. "I didn't know Griff liked sailing."

"Jonathan," Clark said, a hint of uncharacteristic anger in his voice.

Griff was the reason Superman had grudgingly allowed Jonathan into the sickbay. His parents had been the first to sign off on the mind scan, although they were unaware it involved Kryptonian technology. Superman thought that Jonathan's knowledge of the boy's secrets might help give them some insight into the images coming from his psyche, but he certainly hadn't given him permission to play around with the equipment. Alex's idea had been brilliant, Clark had to admit. With the Dreamstone, they might be able to access the boy's subconscious as he slept, but it was only a marginally promising prospect--its effects on humans could be less than reliable.

Alex ran a hand over her forehead, sliding her fingers down to squeeze the bridge of her nose. "We're good to go, I think."

"Just contact for now," Clark said. He turned to Jon who sat patiently in a plastic chair in the corner of the room. The boy looked nervous now, almost stricken, Alex thought, feeling a pang of familial warmth for the boy. Griff had been a huge pain in the ass, but Jon had clearly inherited Kara's see-the-good-in-even-a-flatworm gene.

"Ready to go, little man?" Superman said. 

Jon hopped off the chair, leaning into his father as he led him out to the lobby. Lois was waiting outside with a melting container of ice cream. She held it up and Alex heard the brown paper crackle as Clark tugged at it, inhaled, and blew a stream of cold air into the bag. Lois waved at Alex and mouthed, "They're good for something, aren't they?" 

Alex winked, and as the door closed, she overheard the reporter say, "Come on. There's someone I'd like you to meet." Lois was taking him up to keep Jaime and Maggie company, and to give Maggie a break if she needed it. She'd been with the girl almost 24/7 since her discovery in the Basin. Jaime could also probably use some company closer to her age, Alex thought. Or maybe not. It seemed that Maggie was a lot better with kids than she'd ever admitted to Alex. 

Superman came back inside and made some last minute adjustments to the crystals, watching carefully as they began to shimmer and hum around the Dreamstone. The stone itself was an unremarkable thing. Had Alex seen it on the beach where her father had often taken her to collect agates, she would have ignored it as she might have a chunk of sandstone or a piece of colored glass, its edges dulled by the tides. A flicker of memory intruded through her exhaustion, and for an instant, she could feel the sea mist dampening her skin, and smell the lightly pungent aroma of kelp that had wrapped itself around her ankle. That had been the Sunday before Jeremiah was taken. She remembered trying to kick it off, walking backward, hoping that the barnacle-pocked rock it clung to would win the battle, but instead, it tightened around her ankle, slimy and wet, and Kara's laughter pierced her eardrums.

"Aww," Kara said. "A _Fethredhali_. It's so cute! He _loves_ you, Alex!" She looked to Jeremiah. "Can we bring him home?" 

_For fuck's sake. This has to be an act,_ she thought as she swung her leg up, only managing to make it tighten even more. She felt her skin burn against the pressure. 

Normally, Alex could have cared less about a little seaweed. She was the one the girls at school begged to rid the spiders from their locker rooms and shower stalls. There she was: ‘Action’ Alex Danvers, marching past the squealing members of the volleyball team or the pep squad into a muggy stall, fragrant with sweat and cheap soap, shaking her head as the girls gasped at her cupping a Daddy Long Legs or a wolf spider in her bare hands. She would carry it gently outside to deposit it in the low branch of a tree or a tuft of grass. That was Alex. Things didn't shake her, at least outwardly. Or so she thought. But all morning, her mood had been sinking precipitously.Vickie Donahue had gone on a date with Chris Healy the night before. She'd promised to call-whatever the time-when she got home. 

But she hadn't. In fact, she'd promised to call period that morning. They were supposed to go to the movies later in the day. No word. And now here was Kara, laughing at her, treating her like some inexperienced yokel on _her_ beach, in _her_ territory. She bent forward and curled her fingers around the slippery green strand, listening as Jeremiah patiently explained that the thing attacking Alex wasn't sentient. 

"You mean," Kara said, "That's on sushi?" 

"Mm-hmm," Jeremiah said, and Alex could hear it in his voice, how he was gauging Kara's response, cautiously repressing the chuckle that might hurt her feelings while all the while, Alex was hopping around in front of them, trying to extract herself from a monster. She gritted her teeth and pulled hard, feeling an instant sting of regret and pain as a fragment of shell that had lodged in the tangle sliced into her skin. A thin line of red trailed up her calf, blooming into a trickle that dripped onto the sand. 

"Shit!" she yelled, clapping her leg and still tugging stupidly at the tangle. 

"Language, Alex!" 

Alex looked up at her Dad, who'd straightened suddenly, his posture going from gentle and indulgent--for Kara--to disciplinarian. She snorted. He'd never been around enough to be consistent about that. What a phoney. "H-hey, Dad!" Alex stepped away from the two of them, her fingers still in the strand of kelp. "My leg is fu-freaking bleeding. Maybe for once we could not worry about my influence on poor, innocent Kara here who obvious-"

She tried to stomp her foot and found no purchase; it sank into a tide pool as she toppled sideways, the cold water swallowing her to the shoulders. She heard the two of them laughing as that same tress of kelp floated around her, tickling her neck. She was glad now, that she'd made them laugh. But she wished she hadn't acted that way, she wished that hadn't been their last day together on the beach. 

"Alex, are you okay?" Clark said. "If you'd rather wait. Get a few hours rest at least." 

She shook her head, puzzled at the sudden intrusion of memory. "No. No. Let's do this." 


	45. RISK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the double-posted mess of a chapter last night. Was trying to add a longer update—to be posted this morning— when unicorns appeared and kept redirecting the page. More shortly.

"Lnnngth is a word," Maggie said, placing the last tile decidedly down on the board. 

”No, it isn't." Jaime cocked her head and glared at the Detective. "You made it up. You can't even say it." 

"On Earth-81, it's a word."

"There's no Earth-81," Jaime said. "And besides, if there was one, which I _know_ there's not, it wouldn't be fair. You still don't get to use a different dictionary."  


”How do you know?" Maggie asked.  


“Jon told me," Jaime said. "He says there's only 52."  


"Fair enough." She'd never liked Scrabble much anyway. It made her feel like she was doing paperwork in her free time. She did note a genuine hint of irritation in Jaime's voice, a crankiness that felt all too familiar.

She remembered being stuck at home at her parents' or Luisa's with the flu, always, always in spring. While the other kids were out romping in that rare bubble of Nebraska sunlight, Maggie was cooped up like that girl in the Bradbury story about Venus. She had to laugh at that now. If she'd only known the role that alien worlds would later play in her life. 

Jaime looked healthier though than the wan, preoccupied girl Maggie had confronted in Halterville. Despite the fluorescent lights of the ward, a tinge of pink had returned to the girl's skin, and she was more alert, her voice lighter. 

"You want to play something else?" Maggie asked. "You ever play Risk?"

"Do you know when we can leave?" Jaime asked suddenly.

Maggie opened her mouth to answer and then stopped herself. She didn't want to lie to the girl. She remembered hating it when adults tried to shut her up with vague answers. "I don't know," she said. "I hope soon."  


She saw the Jaime's shoulders sag in disappointment and scooted closer to put an arm around her shoulders. "You know before you _do_ get out of here, we've got some things to discuss. Mind talking about those now?"

Jaime shook her head, her eyes brightening slightly.

"Good," Maggie said. "So…you're going to be moving to National City."

"Which is big," Jaime said.

"Which is big," Maggie said, "But like a lot of big cities, the spaces we live in are kind of small. My place is large enough for both of us. You'll have your own room. There's a park a block down and the library is right across the street, but it's small compared to your Mom's."  


"Which means…" Jaime said.

"Which means, you can't bring everything with you from Halterville. Just the important stuff."

Maggie hated doing that to the kid. She remembered when her father had left her on Luisa's doorstep with a suitcase she hadn't even packed. Surprisingly, Jaime reached over and placed a hand on her wrist.

"It's okay. There's a lot I don't need. I kind of like the idea of starting fresh."

Maggie exhaled in relief. "Good. That's good. We'll get you some stuff in National City, too. Doesn't mean--"

"We'll?" Jaime said. "Who's 'we'?"

Maggie ignored the girl's penetrating gaze. "You hungry?"

"Yeah," Jaime said. "Can I get a strawberry milkshake this time?"

Maggie leaned back and patted the girl's hand. "Look, I'm not trying to be your Mom here, but I want you to get healthy so you can get out of here as soon as possible. So how about we save the milkshakes for weekends and special occasions?"

To her surprise, Jaime nodded. "Sugar kind of makes me hyper anyway," Jaime said. "Makes being stuck in here worse. Can I get green tea? Like you have sometimes?"

"Of course." Maggie felt herself relax slightly. She'd always been good at setting boundaries, too good sometimes, with colleagues, lovers, even Alex to the point where looking back it felt controlling. A child was new territory though. She stood up and walked over to take her jacket from the hanger. "I've got a meeting in an hour. I'll go get-"

"Hey."

Maggie turned to see Alex standing in the open doorway. She was smiling tentatively, her hand clasped around her med kit as if it was she was trying to justify her presence.

"Danvers," Maggie said. "I was just heading down to the cafeteria." She raised her arm to take her jacket off the hook and felt her arm cramp. "Shit."

Jaime giggled at the cuss word and Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Only in circumstances, kiddo.”

“Sure,” Jaime said, shooting a sly smile at Alex.

" _That_ is why I'm here, actually," Alex said. She patted the med kit. "Anti-venom booster." She smiled over at Jaime. "Just a precaution."

Maggie rubbed her shoulder and smiled. "Nice to see it's not just the kids being fussed over."

"I'm not fussing," Alex said.

"Yes, you are," Jaime said.

Maggie saw Alex's cheeks go pink. 

"How are you feeling?" Alex said. 

"Good," Maggie said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Other than this."

"C'mere," Alex said. She patted the empty bed next to Jaime's and Maggie shifted herself onto it. Alex put on a pair of gloves and nodded at her. "You wanna…"

"Sure," Maggie said. "She tugged off her white button down and placed it over the back of the chair next to the bed. Then she pulled up the sleeve of her T-shirt. A thin, but deep slash and a long dark bruise covered her arm.

"Stitches look fine,” Alex said, wincing slightly at the sight. "You've been brave."

"Always am."

Alex smiled at that and leaned in. "Looks like it's healing up, not so nicely, but healing. Mind if I take a look at your back?"

Maggie nodded and turned, giving Alex access. Gently the agent pulled up the back of her T-shirt and Maggie closed her eyes as Alex swabbed the purplish skin with a mild anesthetic.  
"That's much better," Maggie said. She looked over at Jaime, who mouthed, "She's totally fussing" and chuckled.

Alex lowered her shirt and slapped on a pair of gloves. Then she took a syringe from her kit. She looked over at Jaime. "You okay watching this?"

Jaime answered for her, shrugging. "As long as it's not happening to me."  


“Yeah?” Alex said. She was holding Maggie’s gaze as she spoke, and Maggie closed her eyes as Alex swabbed the disinfectant over the wound. "We'll have to take a closer look at your back later." Her fingertips skirted the detective’s arm and Maggie felt herself tense. There was a brief twinge of pain as Alex put the needle in, but it was over quickly.  


“And you're done," Alex said.  


Maggie opened her eyes to meet the redhead's, allowed them to linger for a long moment before Alex turned away.  


“Not so bad?” 

“I was going to get Jaime some dinner before the meeting," Maggie said. "Want to join me?"

Alex dropped the syringe into a bio-waste bag, her expression darkened suddenly. "I'd like to, but I have to get back up there. Our session with Jon's friend was...interesting. Well, you'll find out at the meeting."

"Right," Maggie said. "See you up there, Danvers. And thanks for the shot.


	46. A Cold and Lonely Corner

Lena Luthor had turned up the gas jets and now sat curled up in a blanket by the fire in her suite. She'd forgone the Metropolis Arms for a low-key, luxury B&B called the Falconer's Inn in the hope that she wouldn't be discovered. She needed privacy and time to think, and perhaps a bit more, the inn's warm and intimate atmosphere, however prefabricated. 

She had two problems in mind as poured herself a glass of robust Oregon pinot. She'd spent the entire day taking apart and reassembling one of Tierney's ed-tech devices, trying to get some insight into its workings. Of course, she knew how the thing worked; her company had helped Skyhook with the prototype, but there had to be another component to it than microprocessors and barometric vents. Like the reverse flow in the Skyhook language app, there was something off about its make-she just needed to find it. The second problem was Kara-or Supergirl now. She hated how those names flipped in her mind whenever she thought about her. It made her feel unsteady inside, queasy almost--that was when she didn't feel like crying. 

Kara had lied to her. Supergirl had, too--and Alex and James, and likely that entire cadre of people whom she'd learned to count as friends-the semblance of a family she thought she was building. She thought about Alex now, who seemed to have summarily dropped Maggie Sawyer the moment there was talk of children. That had been a cold move. Even then Lena had shuddered a little at Alex's efficiency, and even more so at how Kara had accepted and even supported her sister's decision. Lena, for one, had understood Maggie's choice. It was baffling to her how even Alex and Kara, whose own family had seen some serious fractures, could still idealize "traditional" family in that way. Families, her father had taught her, were about pride and lineage and maintaining power, and there was Alex Danvers, a caring sort for the most part, a woman who'd just come out of the closet a year previous, exiling her lover from one the second she didn't conform. She should have known, Lena thought, that Kara would put her own kinship with Kal-El over their friendship.

She lifted the glass and swished the contents around, watching as a red glow reflected against the brass surround of the fireplace. She was tempted to get drunk, to send someone out for a pack of Gauloises and chain-smoke while she burned holes in that hideous cancer warning on the box. Lillian would just tell her she was being dramatic. "If that's how you're acting out," she'd said the summer she'd caught Lena lighting up behind a tree on the Luthor estate, "you're not being formidable. Just pettily self-destructive." It was true. She still enjoyed a Cuban cigar from time to time, but she hadn't picked up a cigarette since the age of 17. 

It was funny now, how after Kara's betrayal, that still another piece of Lillian's advice was now the only thing that kept her from sinking back into that darkness. _It's not about you. It was never about you_.

An insult, certainly meant to make her feel small, but at its heart, a fundamental truth. The one lesson Lillian had taught her, had repeated in so many iterations that they all seemed to blend together was that the universe was a cold and lonely corner of hell. We were all in it for ourselves. And now, rather than breaking her, that truth was the only solid ground on which she stood. _It's not about you._ But Lena could push that further. She could see beyond Lillian's closed and ugly view of the world. _Of course, it's not about you. It's about them. About others. Those kids._

With or without Kara, she could face down the hurt and betrayal and maybe still come out a decent human being. 

She dipped her bare feet close to the crackling fire and wiggled her toes. She picked up her glass and sipped the wine-it was sweet, but earthy-not like the watery fruit punch passed off for pinot in France these days. The tannins stubborn and earthy clung to her tongue, and it struck her suddenly. Could the answer be, she wondered, in the raw materials rather than the design? Usually, these smart devices were comprised of a mix of plastic, glass, copper, tin, with platinum and tungsten making up the circuitry, but Tierney had insisted on using Kalanium, a rare earth mineral found only on specific islands in the South Pacific. Kalanium didn't have to be mined, but could with serious difficulty and expense, be extracted from the walls of sea caves and melded with recycled metals to make the parts. Lena had bought Tierney's line about not using tech that exploited child labor in developing countries. "It has to be altruistic at its core, Lena," he'd told her. "And not just to maintain my image, which of course I do care about, but because the plan won't work otherwise. Helping children off the backs of other children would curse the whole project." 

"I never tagged you as superstitious," Lena had said, teasing him, but feeling genuinely impressed at the time-even choked up about it. When she'd returned to L Corp that day, she'd convened a meeting with the board, had started up an investigatory committee to ensure that all overseas manufacturing handled by her company was above board on its labor laws. She was pretty sure some of the board members had cursed her a few times for that, but that was how moved she had been. And now, she was fairly certain that this was just another part of Tierney's long game to infest the minds of those kids. 

She took a deep breath, feeling herself settle into her body, feeling herself regain a slight hold on calm as she breathed in and out, slowly and deliberately, but her hand shook as she tried to stand, and her vision blurred for a brief instant. 

There was a tapping at the window. 

"Quoth the raven," Lena muttered. She turned around and felt herself go dizzy. Supergirl was standing on the balcony on the other side of the glass, her hands folded and her gaze slightly averted as if politely considering the other woman's privacy.

 _Quite rich. After scanning an entire city for me,_ Lena thought. 

She got up and walked over to the glass door. Kara smiled at her and gave her light, nervous wave. This was Kara again now, sunny, hesitant, like she'd just popped up with a box of doughnuts. Lena didn't smile back. It was as if she didn't have the energy. Instead, she slowly slid the door open and turned back to the fireplace. "Supergirl. To what do I owe the honor?" she said. 

Kara straightened, shifting back into her hero persona, but Lena detected a shudder in her powerful frame. "I thought you'd like to know that the information you provided was extremely helpful. We were able to locate the texts, the source code he was working from. I wanted to thank you."

Lena felt her heart thudding, unsure if it was Kara's presence or something else. She picked up her wine glass, hoping that a long drink might calm her nerves. "You're welcome," she said. "I've been trying to--" she gestured to the tangle of wires and plastic parts on the desk in her suite.

"Lena," Kara said, suddenly, "I'm sorry."

Lena bowed her head and felt chest sink at the words. She squeezed her eyes shut. Who exactly was she listening to? "I don't know what you've got to be sorry about. It was I who assumed too much from our friendship."

"No," Kara whispered. "No, that wasn't it at all."

"You-" Lena was trying to sound calm, but there was a tremor in her voice. She brought the glass to her lips, but found the smell odd, nauseating almost. She stared into the dark red liquid, watching her breath cloud the rim of the glass. "Your mistrust wasn't warranted," she said. "But obviously you were informed by history. Your cousin. I should have known. But here is what's funny, Kara. Supergirl," she lifted her hand in an uncharacteristic gesture of frustration. "While I was working so hard to move away from my brother, to avoid the same narrative he'd followed with Superman, you were doubling down, taking the conservative route with our friendship, with my hea--" She heard her voice crack and pain shot though her temples. She reached up and touched her forehead. It was burning.  


"Lena?" In less than a second, Kara had crossed the room and snatched the glass away just as it slipped from the CEO's fingers. A few drops of wine hissed as they hit the fire and Lena fell into Kara, her face pressed into the Kryptonian's shoulder.

"You're not well…" Kara said, and Lena swore she could feel the other woman press her lips to her hair.

Lena felt a sudden burst of rage and tried to pull back, "Don't gaslight me, Kara. I've had quite enough of that. From you, of all people."

"Shhh," Kara said, she slipped an arm around Lena's back, steadying her. With her other hand she lifted Lena's chin. "Oh…"

Kara was searching Lena's face, but all Lena could notice were her fingers. They felt like they were searing her skin.

"Oh, Rao..." The Kryptonian swallowed, her eyes wide with concern.

"What is it?"

Kara nodded to their reflection in the mirror over the mantle and Lena saw herself, her body pressed against Kara's, her face and arms striated with radiant streaks of emerald.

"Kryptonite poisoning," Kara whispered. "How?"


	47. The Dream

Alex cursed herself silently as she entered the elevator. The anti-venom had been a partial pretext. She could have told Maggie to report to the main med bay, but after her experience with the Dreamstone, she felt raw and isolated. She had hoped, rather stupidly, that her former lover's calm might help ease her mind after what she'd seen. A darkness that still screamed at her from the depths of her unconscious. But when she got to Jaime's room and saw the easy rapport between them, she felt shut out in a way she never had before. Maggie looked happy, maybe happier than she ever had been when they were together, and she couldn't bring herself to spoil it. 

_It was nothing_ , she told herself. _An anxiety dream_. She wiped away a tear as the doors closed and the elevator began its climb to the Hall of Justice's 43rd floor. Clark had warned her there might be residual effects, that the energy emitted by the Dreamstone could affect humans within a certain radius. Alex had accepted that risk. "What are a few bad dreams when you've faced a firing squad and almost been shot into space?" she said. 

But when they'd fired up the stone, it hadn't configured itself to the monitors; instead it spilled the contents of the boy's subconscious onto the walls of the room, sent it spinning around them like projections from a zoetrope. Clark tried to reign it in via the controls, but the object was too powerful, perhaps magnified by the entity that now inhabited Griff's psyche. It was as if a ghost had washed up into their reality, loosened fragments from the boy's memory--sailboats, a cat, a crying boy with a bloodied lip. The images were in various states of resolution, some faint and barely definable, others almost real enough to make her duck. Still, there wasn't much to go on. Not at first. What flickered around them was neither alien nor very odd in a human sense, a plane of grass, a Ferris wheel, a couple of roving, armored gunmen Alex immediately recognized from one of Winn's video games. The strains of a piano waltz tinkled around her. 

_Somewhere below the Grand Hotel, there is a tunnel that leads down to hell…_

"So far just random neurons firing," she said to Superman, "Is there any way we can sharpen--"

Clark shook his head. He was still adjusting the crystals and he looked genuinely spooked. "I wouldn't, Alex," he said. "Doing That might encourage those things to come through."

"I don't think they-" Alex glanced up. It was parked behind a stuffed bear with one eye torn out and a set of car keys. A series of lines, supporting an oval, who's outline spun and expanded. It continued into even more sets of lines with more ovals atop them, outward, endlessly into the recesses of the boy's mind. It reminded her of something, one of those symbolic mathematical notations she'd learned about at Stanford. 

_That's where old devils danced and kissed and made their blood pacts in the ancient myths…_

"Enhance," she said. The image grew and around those ovals she could see a horse, running in a loop from earth to sky. "It's some kind of trace notation," Alex said. 

She came to minutes later, squinting at the sudden intrusion of overhead lights in the room. Superman was standing over her. "Alex? You okay?"

"I'm so sorry!" she said, wiping a bit of drool on her sleeve. "I don't know what happened. I…was dreaming."

Superman placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think we've got enough information for now. You should get some rest. We'll discuss the findings at the meeting."

"Of course," Alex said. She glanced up and saw that Clark had already ordered the med staff to take the boy back to his room. They were wheeling him out, and Alex saw with some relief that Griff's vitals were stable on the monitor. "I will. Thanks."

_Just a bad dream,_ she thought. _She and Maggie were inside a cave, climbing a narrow stairway that had been carved out of the rock, while behind and below them lay a blackness so complete it might have been the deepest reaches of space. Below them though, the sound of a river echoed up, hinting of a deep gorge. Maggie was walking ahead of her and Alex would call out to her intermittently, would try to remind her of her presence. But with each call, Maggie quickened her step, getting farther away, her silhouette smaller on the path ahead as Alex hurried to catch up._

_"Maggie?" she called out. "Maggie?"_

_And that's when she slipped, her knee scraping hard against the jagged stones. Several rocks bounced down the cave walls. She never heard them hit the water, but Maggie, who’d been oblivious to her entreaties to slow down stopped, and began to turn around. Alex reached up, one hand extended outward, the other covering her face. "Maggie! Don't!"_


	48. First

"Wait…wait," Kara said. 

Lena was staring at herself, mouth open, face drawn and pale against the green now slashing across her neck, her left cheek. She raised a trembling hand to her face, attempting to wipe whatever it was away, but it was coming from inside her, she realized, radiating from within. 

"Kara?" she said. "What's happening to me?" Her knees buckled and she felt bile rising to her throat, but her mouth was inexplicably dry. Kara gripped her by the shoulders, almost painfully. She pulled Lena to her and wrapped the CEO in her cape.

"I don't know," she said. As she tugged her closer, her eyes scanned the room. "This shouldn't be possible.But either way, we've got to get you away from whatever this is."

"Don't be sorry, Kara," Lena said, hearing the words pour out of her. This wasn't what she should be saying. Not now. "Kara, I never wanted to make you feel…" Her head lolled back and Kara cupped it from behind, her fingers tangled in Lena's hair. The warmth of the Kryptonian's cape felt comforting despite the chills that now racked her body. She saw the hero's eyes alight on something, an expression of inarticulate rage flashing across her face. 

"I should have fucking known."

Hearing the Kryptonian swear was almost enough to shock Lena back into lucidity. She lifted her head and "Ka--?"

Kara shook her head. "Not Kryptonite, but we need to get you away from it. Now."

With that her hands slipped around Lena's waist, and fast enough that Lena couldn't process it, Kara was holding her aloft over the hotel. Lena felt the nausea dissipate almost instantly, until she looked down. Kara's arms tightened around her protectively and Lena lifted her head until they were face-to-face. There was a silence as Kara's eyes searched hers. She lifted her hand and stroked Lena's face, one finger slowly tracing down her cheek, then on to her neck. She smiled, slowly, her tone almost wondrous as she said, "It's going."

Lena felt pulled into the other woman's gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but Kara spoke first. "It was Tierney's device," she said gently. "You must have exposed yourself to something when you took it apart. I have a feeling I know what it is. But it shouldn't have affected you in such a way. Lena, have you been sick like this before?" 

Lena thought back to that night she and Kara had dined with Tierney. She had always worked on the design from the device on her computer, at a distance. But that night Tierney had taken one out and pieced it apart to show her how easy it was. "No planned obsolescence here," he'd said. "Easy to upgrade. The little buggers can do it themselves." She'd felt sick that night, and ill the day Agent Vasquez had summoned her to the DEO. There'd been a delivery earlier that day. Some parts from the factory. Maybe Tierney wasn't using Kalanium at all, or maybe he was mixing it with something, an alien mineral to make it conduct more efficiently. "Oh...god," she said. She looked at Kara as the implications swam through her head. 

Kara swallowed and Lena felt her arms tighten around her. Reassuring. "I'll go back for it. But you're first."

"First?" Lena said, feeling herself go weak. She let herself lean into Kara, burying her face in the other woman's neck. 

"Of course," Kara said, her voice hoarse. Lena felt her press her cheek into hers; the warmth of her skin was almost a shock against the chill night air. "You might not believe me after what I did. But yeah...you're first. Always. "


	49. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, heading into the final act and things are going to get a little crazy. Thanks for reading!

“Well what d’you know? It came from National City!”Maggie wrested herself from the HOJ agent who was patting her down and wrapped Winn Schott in a hug.

They'd spotted each other on opposite sides of a body scanner that might have doubled for an iron maiden. Although Maggie had been allowed into the med bay, the upper floors held confidential intergalactic intelligence, thus requiring yet another gauntlet of clearance. 

“Still owe me a pool game, Sawyer,” Winn said. He clapped her loudly on the back and Alex glanced up at the noise, her eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Since when were you two buddies?” Alex asked. 

Winn pulled away and lowered his gaze. Maggie cleared her throat. “Can’t a girl be happy to see an old comrade?” she said.

Alex’s eyes flicked back to Winn, who stood, head lowered with his hands jammed in his pockets as the HOJ agent squeezed around his ankles. 

”Tovarish,” Winn said, awkwardly. Alex scrunched up her mouth and turned back to Maggie, a flat smile stretched across her face. “Of course. Not my business.” 

With that, the HOJ security guard pulled Maggie back against her and finished the pat down. 

“Sorry,” the woman said brusquely. “Orders. But you’re all done.” She handed Maggie and Winn two ID badges on surprisingly colorful lanyards featuring the 'S' shield, a bat, and Wonder Woman’s star. “We ran out of real IDs,” the woman said, “had to reprogram some of the tour passes.” 

Winn was staring at his in awe. “Do we get to keep these?” he asked. 

The HOJ agent bit her tongue and nodded toward the corridor. “You can do better than that.” 

“That was less unpleasant this time,” Maggie said, hanging the lanyard around her neck. She was trying to lighten the mood, but as she looked up, Alex was already a few feet ahead of her. The agent’s head was lowered, her shoulders taut, and it was likely the show of friendliness to Winn had caught her off guard. Alex had been through a few too many surprises since their unexpected reunion at the viaduct. And she’d been decent about taking them on the chin, but there was no way Maggie would have risked Winn's job with the DEO. Not after all he'd done for her. For Jaime. 

"Hey, Alex?” she said Wait." 

Alex didn’t smile, but she stopped and allowed Maggie to catch up. She continued the conversation as if nothing odd had passed between them. “J’onn had a talk with General Lane. He’s been behind a lot of this.” He gestured back at the body scanner and the HOJ security.“Worse than the Pentagon.” 

“Lane,” Maggie said. “Makes sense. That guy used to always block our inquiries about Fort Rozz. Huge pain in the ass.” 

“Oh, I know.” Alex said. “But avoid saying that around here. I’m sure Clark feels the same, but Lois is quite attached to her father.” She shook her head and made a somewhat sweeping gesture. “Everywhere you go, it's all in the family—” 

Maggie reared her head back, and Alex stopped herself. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean Jaime.” 

“It’s okay, Danvers,” Maggie said. “Guess I’m part of the club now.” 

Alex smiled at her gratefully. “How is she? She looks better.” 

“She’d be even more so if she could get some fresh air. She’s cooped up.” 

“I’ll talk to J’onn about that," Alex said, her tone light and efficient. And Maggie should have been grateful for this, but a sense of disappointment seeped into her gut. Alex’s reticence about their past, about Maggie’s brand-new family situation was both admirable and disconcerting. It was hard to gauge whether or not her ex fiancé had simply moved on to a point where Maggie’s having a child was a non-issue, or whether Alex was restraining herself for her sake. If it _was_ the latter, she wished Alex would open up, yell at her even, anything to clear the air between them. The former, she didn't even want to consider. 

Maggie glanced over her shoulder and saw that Winn had fallen back to give them space. He would take a step and then pause to peer intently at the portraits of frog-necked senators and various historical figures lined up on the walls in gilded frames. He saw Maggie watching him and read nervously from a plaque, “The Grey Champion was America’s first fictional superhero, created by Nathaniel Hawthorne. The more you know." 

“That's crap,” Maggie said. “It was Hester Prynne." 

"Really?" Winn said. 

"Sure," Maggie shrugged. "Dark secret, do-gooder complex."

"She _did_ wear a shield," Winn said. "A red one." He glanced over at Alex mischievously, but Alex hadn't noticed. She had quickened her step again, this time hurrying toward a tall woman at the end of the corridor. 

“Agent Danvers!” 

It was a rich, vibrant voice. The woman waiting for them was stunning, her dark hair fanning out over an emerald shirt. She was holding open one of the library’s enormous oak doors as easily as if it were a lace curtain. It took Maggie only a second to recognize her. 

“Diana!” Alex said. “So glad you could be here.” Diana leaned over to give the agent a peck on the cheek and Alex's eyes bugged out on contact. She looked, Maggie noted with both amusement and irritation, like someone had dropped ice down her back while she slept. 

“Kal-El told me all about your work with the stone,” Diana said, “spectacular.” 

“Pffft...” Alex batted away the compliment. She turned back to Maggie and Winn, her cheeks flushed and Maggie had to force herself not to roll her eyes. “Diana. I’d like you to meet Agent Winn Schott of the DEO, and this is...Detective Maggie Sawyer of the NCSPD. She led us to the first nest.” 

“You’re...tall,” Winn said and Diana tilted her head at him. 

“You think so?” Diana said. There was no sarcasm in the question. “On Themyscira, I can assure you, I am quite average.” 

“Well, yeah, that figures,” Alex said, reaching up to wind a lock of her own hair around a finger. "I mean Amazons, right?" 

This red-faced debacle needed to end, Maggie thought. She walked over to Wonder Woman and coolly extended a hand. “It’s great to meet you, Diana. I think you might know my old partner on the Metropolis Special Crimes Unit. Dan Turpin. He worked with you on the Furies case.” 

Diana’s eyes went wide with recognition. “Oh, of course! A lovely man. He spoke of you often, Detective. Highly. It truly is an honor.” 

“All mine,” Maggie said. She turned back to Alex, barely suppressing a smirk. 

Diana held the door for them as they entered the library, and before she caught up, Maggie stepped up behind the still blushing agent and whispered, “Got ahold of yourself there, Danvers?” 

Alex pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Am I that bad?” 

“Bad enough,” Maggie said. 

The agent started to stutter a reply, but halted, the hint of a smile creeping over her features. "Jealous?" 

“Of you getting that little kiss there?” Maggie said. “Who wouldn’t be?” And with that, she shrugged and strolled a few feet ahead. 

“Th-that’s not what I—” Alex's voice caught in her throat as Maggie glanced back at her and winked. 

The smug expression disappeared as Maggie’s mouth dropped in awe at the library. She wasn’t the type for opulence really, had never been impressed by it, and she’d been in big libraries before, like the one at the university in Coimbra, but nothing could have prepared her for this. 

“This is Hogwarts level," Winn said. 

Alex looked up smiling. “It really is, isn’t it?” 

Diana led them past a few brightly uniformed youth sitting—whom Winn excitedly pointed out as members of the Titans—and up a staircase into a more austere private reading room. As they shuffled in and took their seats around the table, Alex walked to the front and opened a laptop. It felt oddly formal and yet comfortably familiar, Maggie thought. Here she was with the same old company and that same old world-ending scenario, but there were new alliances and new distances, and with Jaime, at least for her, higher stakes. Alex passed her notes to Diana and switched on the monitor. Images taken from Griff’s subconscious appeared on screen. 

“What do we have here?” Winn asked. 

Alex folded her hands in front of her. The blush was gone from her cheeks and her voice was calm. “That’s what I’d like to know.” She looked at Winn, pointing to the object she’d seen projected on the wall of the medbay. “What do you see? Just off the top of your head?” 

“Like those symbols on Tierney's device," Winn said. "Only they're reproducing themselves. That’s a mathematical notation, right?” 

“Don’t know,” Alex said, she caught the Detective’s eyes. “Maggie?” 

Maggie folded her arms. She was rarely comfortable when they played these kinds of games on the force. To her it was one step away from calling in psychics to catch serial killers--not aliens like J'onn--but the kind of people who slurred their consonants until they narrowed down your name. "Looks kind of like a lamp to me, Danvers. What are you getting at here?” 

"Oooh." Alex nodded to Diana and the Amazon strode to the front of the room. 

“That is correct. It is a lantern. The light of Mnemosyne." 

“Mne-who?” Winn said. 

“The goddess of memory,” Diana continued. “A Titan, actually.” She glanced over at Alex who brought up a several images of ancient paintings and mosaics. All of them featured the same woman, a chalice in one hand. Below her that shape, now distinct, sat on a table in front of her. 

"Why didn't we see this before?" 

They looked up to see Superman in the doorway. “I’m sorry to be late,” he said. “Kara had an urgent matter. She’ll join us later.” >

Diana gestured for him to sit and pulled back a chair, slowly lowering herself into it. “I had hoped,” she said, steepling her fingers, her voice measured, but her expression uncharacteristically grim, “that it was not true. That it was simply a story we told in the firelight of Themyscira. I fear I was mistaken. And that, my friends, makes me simply afraid.”


	50. The Truth

Lena sat propped up in a bed in the Madison clinic. It was one of the few beneficiaries of L-Corp left in Metropolis. After her half-brother’s incarceration, it was time to pull up stakes in a city where the Luthor name would remain permanently tarnished and move on. The clinic was small, used mainly for last chance patients undergoing experimental treatments, but Lena had refused to let Kara take her to the Hall of Justice. 

Kara had protested. The DEO was better equipped to diagnose her, after all, but Lena had pressed a hand to the Kryptonian's chest and said she'd be a burden with the Hall taking in so many children. And although she didn't say this to Kara, Lena didn't trust she wouldn't end up locked up like Tierney. 

So, Kara had brought her here and taken a blood sample for Alex to analyze back at the lab. After making sure Lena's room was secure, she'd gone back to the hotel to collect the pieces of Skyhook tech that the CEO had disassembled. 

Something in that device, Kara was certain, was what had made the CEO ill. And while Lena was glad the cause wasn't something internal, it didn't make her feel much better. The effects had been so similar to what she’d seen with Kara and Kryptonite, those glowing striations of death that had seemed to crack free from Rhea of Daxam’s skin. She pulled off the blanket, hearing it rustle as it slipped to the floor. The room smelled of chlorine and her feet were cold and clammy against the tile as she went to gather up her clothes. God, how she wanted a shower and a decent hotel room--and room service, for fuck's sake. She hadn't eaten since the day before and she needed a clear head. And then a drink after she figured everything out. Her life was one long Lana Turner moment, although when she thought about it—she was more Cheryl Crane than her glamorous and absent mother. 

She was just lacing up a pair of boots when she saw the bright red flash out of the corner of her eye. Kara was standing in the door with a package from a bakery. The smell of cinnamon and warm bread caused her mouth to water. That smell, Kara standing there haloed in the late afternoon sunlight, were almost enough to make Lena forgive her. 

"You always read my mind," Lena said. 

"Did you get some sleep?" Kara said. She walked up and placed the paper bag on the bed and Lena managed a smile. 

"I did. Or at least I think I did. It's all a bit of a blur." 

"Yeah?" Kara said. She reached into the bag and passed Lena a cup of coffee. "It's the closest I could get to your usual at Catco," she said. "I figured you might like some normalcy." 

Lena glanced at her curiously. "Because things were so normal with us before?" 

Kara shook her head. "No. I suppose that’s not what I meant." She placed a hand on Lena's arm. The touch was warm and reassuring, but Lena pulled away, bringing the cup to her lips. The coffee was rich and milky, and she had to acknowledge that Kara had gotten it exactly right. 

"Thank you for this," she said all too quickly. "You have no idea how bad the service is around here. I'll have to bring it up with the board. Sheer neglect. This equipment alone," she pointed to the call button, "state-of-the-art 1995." She was avoiding the elephant with this rambling. She knew last night that she'd said some things, and that Kara had as well. And here they were, pushed back into that same intimacy mixed with the awkwardness of the unsaid. Only things _had_ been said, or at least acknowledged. Clarification? Now that was another hurdle entirely. 

"I didn't feel like myself last night," Lena said. "Or perhaps that's not the right way to put it. I felt like a different part of myself had emerged somehow, if that makes sense." 

Kara lowered her gaze; a lock of her blonde hair fell across her face. She looked shy, Lena thought. And not in that awkward Kara Danvers way. There was more depth to it now, a gentle reticence. 

"I know the feeling," Kara said. "Kryptonite has a similar effect on me. It functions by getting your own system to attack you from inside. That's why certain variations of it can stimulate and inhibit different behaviors. Red K," she said, her eyes distant, "That was…wow." She shook away the memory. 

"But this wasn't Kryptonite," Lena said. She put the coffee down and faced Kara directly. 

"It didn't affect me," Kara said. "So, no." 

"Why not the people in the plant then? Or the others at L-Corp?" Lena said. "Why me?" 

Kara exhaled and turned slightly, fiddling with the bag. She took out a cinnamon roll and placed it on a napkin on the bedside table. “We'll have a better idea once Alex returns the blood work." She gave Lena a smile. "I'm just so glad you're okay." 

Lena swallowed with mild indignation. She didn't doubt the other woman's sincerity, but she couldn't go back to that, to Kara's gee-golly-gosh facade. It wouldn't work on her anymore. "You've already told me that, Kara. Please, let's not continue this if you won't be completely honest with me." 

Kara's eyes locked with hers and a glimmer of uncertainty flashed through them. " I know. And I'm sorry," she said. Lena glanced down and saw the other woman's hands were trembling and one of them had clenched into a fist. "I just really don't know how this is supposed to work yet. And every time I think I'm catching on, well there's Tierney and almost losing your trust, and then almost losing you--" 

Lena reached over and wrapped her fingers around Kara's closed hand. "That makes two of us," she said, her voice breaking. "You're not the only one who's new to this. But Kara, I need to know what this means. Just be honest with me. That's all I ask." 

Kara nodded and Lena saw a tear slide down her cheek. She felt the other woman's hand relax in hers as their fingers intertwined. 

"Okay then," the Kryptonian said, her eyes searching Lena's. "Here goes. What do you know about your mother?"


	51. Fairy Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long delay here. Taking liberties with Greek mythology was harder than I thought. We're going into the abyss here and thanks for staying with me. This scene also took me longer because well, having someone tell a long, convoluted story in a room is hard to make interesting. I struggled with how much I could cut from the backstory and maintaining Maggie's POV. Comments are appreciated.

Diana glanced over at Alex, her face drawn. “Agent Danvers is already familiar with one version of the story.”

“From the Zakkarian case?” Alex said, straightening. She looked exhausted, Maggie thought, like she hadn’t eaten or slept for the last 48 hours. “So we can confirm there is a connection between the Kryptonite decoys and the nests?” Alex asked.

Maggie felt her jaw set at the question. ‘Confirm’ felt like far too strong a word to be using at this point, but Diana nodded confidently. “I believe so.The problem is that there are so many versions of the story. Perhaps my sisters can help us gather them. It would be good for you to be familiar with the differing interpretations." 

Winn raised his hand. “ Um...is this going to be like in Dracula?” 

“What?” Alex’s face screwed up and Winn exhaled uneasily. “Liiiike rather than just telling people the story, Doctor Seward has to say it all into a Dictaphone, and _then_ hand it over to Mina Harker, who _then_ has to then type a bunch of copies for everyone to read because they’re so eager to use the technology that they just kind of let it sort of waste tiii—” He caught Alex’s incredulous stare and stopped. His gaze shot down to the agenda on the table in front of him. “Right. First item.” 

“That’s the plan,” Alex said. She folded her arms and looked at Maggie as if to say ‘can you believe this?’ 

Maggie addresssed Diana. “He’s got a point. We don’t have time.” In truth, it wasn't just that. Winn’s added reference to Dracula made her fear for Jaime again, sent her mind her briefly back to the darkness of the viaduct, and those the marks on Jaime’s arms. “Witness testimony is usually more accurate on the first go around. Why not give us the version you remember to start?” 

Diana smiled at her, impressed, then clicked the tiny remote in her hand and brought up another image. It was a Pre-Raphaelite painting of a beautiful woman, in one hand a candle, in the other, an oil lamp with points extending from its top like flickers of flame. Maggie remembered seeing it somewhere during her travels, but she couldn’t pinpoint the place. 

“The Louvre,” Diana said as if reading her mind. “I have chosen this because it is the most representative of her. Although, honestly,” she shrugged. “I have not seen her at least three decades.” 

“Who was she?” Winn asked. 

“Mnemosyne _is_ a Titan, although she does not evoke the same animosity from the gods as the others do. She wasn’t into worship or sacrifice although she did inspire a cult.”

Alex’s eyes went wide in recognition. “Of course. To Asclepius. Dedicated to medicine.” 

“And memory,” Diana corrected her. “The ancient poets would invoke her name when they composed an oration. It was how we kept our stories before…” she gestured at Winn, “your Mina Harker with her Dictaphone.” 

“Doctor Seward,” Winn said.

“Of course,” said Diana, good humoredly. 

“But, the cult of Asclepius has positive connotations,” Alex said. “How is that a horror story?” 

Diana brought up another image, the one Alex had seen in the text she had loaned her, those human shapes being filled up, warped into something else, something alien. 

“Like any good fairy tale, the story has been defanged through the ages. According to many, the cult was not originally dedicated to medicine, but to knowledge. As power. It changed over time to make it more palatable, and to assuage Mnemosyne. In reality, she had no involvement other than her name."

"Then who was involved?" Winn asked. Diana gestured up to the image on the screen, her fingers pinpointing a bearded man with hollow eyes. He was on bended knee, clutching at his head, but it was no longer a human head. Things like horns protruded from it; he had a several eyes peering up from various places on his face and his neck, looking in different directions. That might have been comical, Maggie thought, but instead, she felt a chill ripple through her body.

"It sets down," Diana continued, "that there was a group of men, all of them philosophers, all of them ambitious. They lived in the village of Ioanii, which was located deep in a valley of a clear river and sheer abundance. They wanted a foolproof way to defend themselves from the encroaching and often hostile clans that surrounded them. In the story, there was one man--although we do not know his name--who claimed to know the secret to godlike knowledge, and one day,he led them to a cave in the mountains, wherein, he claimed, a spring ran up the River of Memory, the same one from which the Orphists drank.There, he told them to drink, and as they did, they saw it was true. They could absorb every fact, every poem, every bit of history or wisdom. Their minds became indestructible palaces of memory and they used their knowledge to fortify the village, to advance medical treatments, art, literature, until soon, Ioanii’s example had reduced the surrounding villages to primitive outcroppings.” 

“A beacon on the hill,” Superman said. "We know how that turns out."

“But the more they drank,” Diana said, her tone lowering, “the less they were themselves. It was the women and children who saw it first. You see, the women were not allowed to drink from the spring. And they saw that their men were behaving oddly, coldly and even violently toward them. The men began making plans, not just to protect Ioanii, but to attack and wipe out any potential threat. And there were physical changes as well,” she zoomed in on the image of the philosopher. "The men became monsters in the literal sense, terrifying their wives and their children." 

Maggie watched with slight discomfort as Alex stared up at the image on the screen. She lifted a finger. “That's right. The text said something about them being filled so that their spirits were crushed in the process."

Diana nodded. “They soon took the children to the spring and had them drink. And what happened to them was even worse, for they became even more powerful. They began to lay waste to the people in neighboring villages, slaughtering them—absorbing all they had.” 

"Sounds like your average AP class," Winn said. 

“We have a similar story in Kryptonian mythology,” Superman said. “About an invasion from within. Kryptonian scholars didn’t view it as much more than a psychological construct.” 

Maggie let out a cough of relief. Her relationship with Superman had always been a bit rocky in Metropolis, but it was nice to have some rationality returned to the discussion. 

“Kal-El,” Diana said. “The Greek ‘myths’ were once considered archetypes as well. And here I am.”

Superman nodded in concession, and that battle lost, Maggie lifted her hand, feeling a mild twinge of pain where the creature had slashed her. “So, really what’s the takeaway then?” she said. “You think that whatever is affecting these kids is connected to this story you heard around a campfire. I’ve seen all four versions of Invasion of the Body Snatchers and they really haven't been much help in cracking a case.” 

Diana folded her hands and regarded Maggie calmly, like a puzzle she was trying to figure out. “I think it is the only thing we have, Detective.” 

Maggie shook her head, a wry smile cracking her features. She could suspend disbelief, that was part of her job when it came to aliens and parallel worlds, but this was just lousy detective work. How many times had she been forced to eliminate a suspect she’d spent months, even years trying to build a case against? And now—Presto! Fairy story swallowed whole. She wished the Batman was there, or Kate, but for now, she was outnumbered. She drummed her fingers once on the table. “So, what do you suggest we do?” she said, nodding up at the painting, “Get that magic lantern up there?”

Alex shot Maggie a look and Maggie ignored her. She kept her eyes on Diana, who remained calm and implacable. 

“You haven’t let me finish, Detective,” Diana said. "I haven't gotten to that solution." 

“Oh do please,” Winn said. He was rapt, leaning his face into his hands like a kid.

“There was a woman named a Alleia, who fearing for her village, journeyed into the Underworld to entreat Hades for help, and Hades--in some versions worried about the threat to the gods, in others impressed by the mortal--granted her permission to carry water from the River Lethe to the surface. There she administered it to the children. And finally, the men.”

“So, they triggered amnesia in the patients,” Alex said. Maggie could see that the gears were clicking in her ex’s head. She was already considering possibilities. "What was the result?" 

“The children, fortunately, only forgot the nightmare that had befallen them,” Diana said. “In most of the stories. But the men, and I quote ‘became like newborn babes.’ It was Alleia who led the village from then on, who perfected the healing arts and shared Ioanii’s advancements with the surrounding villages. Of course you know how that story ends. The men took over and Alleia had a name change.”

“To Asclepius,” Alex said. 

Diana nodded. 

“But of course,” Alex said, chuckling sardonically. “Never share credit on a research project, right?”

Diana looked at her quizzically and Maggie took advantage of the pause. “So you’re saying,” she said, “that to save these kids, we’ve got to go down into the Underworld and dredge up water from a mythological river.” 

Diana locked eyes with her. “I’m actually saying that _you_ must, Detective Sawyer. As it stands, you are the only suitable candidate.” 


	52. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So things move ahead for Supercorp here. Working on Lena's POV. She's such a complicated character and fun to explore. I hope I'm getting half of this right. Thanks for reading. Also, warning re: mention of maltreatment of children. Some of this based on what happened in Romania under the Ceausescu regime.

_Tell me about your mother._

Those weren’t Kara’s exact words, but they were enough to remind Lena of the cliche, of all the times she’d lain on some analyst’s couch—and once in heels at a bloody standing desk—and was asked that question without a hint of irony. 

In truth, other than the trial, she hadn’t thought about her ‘real’ mother in years. For untangling an Elektra complex had never _really_ been the intention of any of her therapists. Their job, as it became clearer the older she got, was to make Lena see the Luthor family dynamics as perfectly normal, to dampen her instinct to question, and to instill once and for all, the notion that anything her family did was justified and for the greater good. 

So, it was hard now, looking into Kara’s eyes, to believe that this woman in front of her was only motivated by a desire to help.

“Lillian wouldn’t tell me who she was,” Lena said. “She said my father had an affair. That the woman disappeared.” She swallowed, feeling a well of anger rise up inside her. “Likely, it was more a case of being 'disappeared' by Lillian.” 

Kara nodded thoughtfully. She passed Lena the warm bread, and overwhelmed by hunger, Lena took a bite only to find her mouth dry. She chewed for a bit and paused, the sticky dough threatening to lodge in her throat. Kara handed her the coffee, cooler now and she managed to swallow it down. “Thank you," she said, clearing her throat. 

Kara reached up and began rubbing her back. "It's okay. Take your time," she said, and Lena felt herself leaning into the other woman. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “My father sired another child, but that was long before he and Lillian married. I’ve always suspected though that he wasn't the type to have a dalliance with just anyone. He was a cautious man with everything, except perhaps science and the lives of the poor. Protective of his image as well as his heart. From what Lillian said, the affair lasted for years.”

Kara nodded. “Do you think--do you know where he might have been during those years? Was he in Metropolis or...” 

“No,” Lena said. She took another drink of the coffee, worried the sediment on her tongue before she answered. “He was away, often. Working on the particle separator. I know he spent a lot of time in Turkey and Switzerland, and in former Eastern bloc countries that had just opened up and were aching for expertise and fast supplies of cash." She looked at Kara, nervously. "You know about the Romanian orphans.” 

Kara's expression sobered. “I do,” she said. "That would have been right around the time you were born."

Lionel Luthor had made loud attempts to bolster himself as a philanthropist, spending millions on helping the thousands of Romanian orphans created by the Ceaucescu's regime. So many of those children had been malnourished and maltreated for so long, and Lionel had promised to undo the damage. What he’d really done is helped himself to human test subjects. Of course, no one could prove it. The records were destroyed before the dictator and his wife had been summarily executed, but there was enough evidence and oral testimony to damn his reputation if not his freedom. Money won over in the end. 

"Do you think someone there could be my mother?" 

Kara took her hand and Lena was startled this time by the warmth of it and intimacy of the gesture. She was playing with Lena's fingers, the kind of thing a longterm lover might do as they sat lazily contemplating a future. But even stranger was how right it felt. Things hadn't been clarified between them in so many words, but there was a mixture and knowingness and near innocence in Kara's touch, in her trust. 

Kara was staring abstractedly at their hands."I think there might be more to it than that. We may have more in common than we thought." 

Lena looked up and the Kryptonian met her gaze with warmth and curiosity. "You think she wasn't from Earth," she said, and Kara nodded slowly in response.

It was hard for her to focus on this moment, for there were two revelations occurring at once as Kara reached over and brushed a strand of dark hair from Lena's eyes. She took the lock between her fingers, examining it. “You said Lionel had sired another child before marrying Lillian. But it was _you_ he chose to raise. You were special to him." She smiled almost imperceptibly and Lena could see the other woman's cheeks begin to color; awkward Kara Danvers was beginning to eat away at the Kryptonian's resolve. "I mean that goes without saying, of course."

“And here I thought it was out of love,” Lena said, feeling her last semblance of familial connection fall away. 

Kara's fingers tightened around hers. “No, Lena. Your father loved you. Lex loves you. I don’t mean to disparage your family. Whatever history they share with mine.” 

Lena swallowed. “I suppose it is possible to love someone and still view them as a chess piece.” 

"You're so much more than that." Kara tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. "You were special to him. And to Lex. And to me. You've had enough self-questioning and beating yourself up. You deserve answers, but those answers aren't there to confirm an idea of yourself that others have imposed on you. I just want you to think about it. You reacted to that alloy in the same way I react to Kryptonite and Mon-El to lead, an alloy that isn't from this world, that doesn't affect other humans or me. And I doubt it would Mon-El, but we don't need him here to test it out." 

Lena's heart swelled a little at Kara's attempt to joke. She couldn't count the times she'd wanted her to ditch that bland and noisome pretty boy and spend the weekend with her. "You mean it?" she said. Kara looked at her questioningly. "About you being part-alien?" 

"Well, of course, I'm an alien. I meant that part about Mon-El." 

It took Kara moment to read the sly smile on Lena's face. Then one broke out on her own and she burst into laughter. "I think we can look into your past without him." Her expression became more serious then. “If that is something you want.” 

Lena felt a mix of hope and trepidation. Knowing about her heritage might be a way to overcome her family's legacy, but she was frightened, too. She looked at Kara, her smile falling. “What if it's something horrible? Like I'm a Dominator or a White Martian--or some part of me emerges that I can't control." 

“I don’t know,” Kara said, lifting her chin with her finger. “You’ve controlled yourself very admirably up to this point, without anyone to talk to. You’ve done so much better than me. You're so much braver." 

“Yeah?” she said, softly. Kara didn’t answer. She just nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly as she leaned in, her eyes searching Lena's, darting toward the other woman's lips. Almost instinctively, Lena reached up and slid her hand through Kara's hair, savouring its softness, the smell of lilacs. She closed her eyes as she drew their foreheads together, and their mouths soon followed. Lena felt a judder of electricity pass through her insides as the kiss deepened. So this was what it was between them. This was what it had been all along. There'd been no declaration needed. Not the way it had been with Jack Spheer or any number of the men with whom she'd been 'serious.' As they pulled apart, Lena opened her eyes to meet Kara's. The Kryptonian stared at her, mouth open slightly as if in awe. But before she could speak, Lena pulled Kara to her, gently, felt the breath of the other woman's laughter on her neck. 

Another thing we have in common?" she whispered.

“I hope so,” the Kryptonian said. She planted a light kiss on Lena's neck and pulled back, gesturing to the drab, mint green bed sheets, the curtains still pocked with cigarette burns from the 1960s. "Kind of a dreary place to figure this stuff out, don’t you think?” 

"Agreed," said Lena. "You have my permission to fly me out of here."


	53. Hadestown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for any formatting issues. I’m writing all of this on Evernote as I’m away from my computer.

Maggie cocked her head at Diana. “Me?” 

She knew how this worked; you could get a recalcitrant perp to play ball just by making him feel involved and important. Those kids were possibly one step away from being irrevocably lost, and she was sitting around a boardroom being prepped for some kind of game quest.

”I mean, I’d like to believe in magic, but there aren’t enough happy endings in the world for that.” She felt Alex’s eyes on her. _Wrong thing to say,_ she thought.

Diana said nothing, only smiled patiently as if she’d predicted her response.“It is natural that you feel that way,” she said. “But you see, it’s quite difficult to persuade Hades. I could entreat him for help myself, but he is not likely to listen to an enemy of his brother. And he was never one for sacrifices. Laughed at those death cults who’d sacrifice lambs to him in Thrace. ‘A lot of wasted mutton,’ he’d say. He’s spent so much time down there that the only time he ever listened was when a request came from here,” she touched her chest, “one who made him feel.”

”Orpheus,” Winn said. “That’s right! Those soulful tunes.” 

”Or so they say,” Diana said. 

Winn leaned in, “Really? So he was like Nickelback?” 

”Kenny G,” Diana said dryly. 

“Well, you’ve definitely got the wrong person then,” Maggie said. She looked over at Alex, who head bent, was staring stricken at her folded hands. She looked like Diana had just punched her in the gut. 

“Danvers,” she said, trying to snap her out of it, “you think inducing amnesia might be a key?”  


Alex looked up absently. “It’s possible. The question is if there’s a safe way to do it.”

Maggie nodded. “I’m going to go shake up a few leads from my Zakkarian contacts in Metropolis,” she said. She smiled pleasantly at Diana and gripped the arms of her chair to push herself up. 

Before she was on her feet, Diana was inches away, her hand gripping Maggie’s wrist, her other reaching inside her jacket.  


“What are you—“  


There was a rustling sound and the razor glare of sunlight. Maggie closed her eyes against it until a searing pain forced her to open them. She doubled over, her mouth expelling a gasp of shock.

“Diana?” Alex said. “What is this?”

Diana kept her eyes locked on Maggie’s. “I am sorry to do this,” she said. 

Maggie looked down at the thing encircling her arm. It was as if a vein of molten gold had melted around her wrist. It burned, oh god, enough to make her think it would sever her hand right there, but there was a different kind of warmth contrasting the pain; it was spreading through her chest, her body, pushing her feelings up until she was certain everyone in the room could read her thoughts.Teeth clenched, she glanced up and saw Alex’s look of dismay.

“Diana,” Alex said. “Diana, this isn’t right.”

“No, it isn’t” Superman said. But he did nothing. He trusted the Amazon too much. “You’d better have a good reason for this.”

“I do,” Diana said. “Maggie, I’m going to ask you a question—one that Hestia compels you to answer. But I hope you don’t see it as an answer for me, but for yourself. You may whisper it to me. I do not mean to infringe on your privacy, but there is no other way to be sure.”

So this was the famous magic lasso? “This...” Maggie sneered, her breath ragged,”this isn’t winning you any points.” 

Diana smiled at her attempt to joke. She leaned in, her breath cool against Maggie’s ear and said,”You only need answer me—To whom does your heart belong?” 

Maggie felt another wave of heat flash through her. There were a million feelings welling up inside her, battling for influence. She could feel all the self-deception, all the lies she told herself, the lies others had told her— her mother and father—about herself weakening under a white hot force. _Alex._ The name screamed at her and she wanted to look away, but the pain seemed to desist when she found the other woman’s eyes. _Jaime and Alex._ There it was. A fucking trinity. A family.

The amazon’s eyes locked with Maggie‘s and Alex stepped over to Diana and tried to pull her away, but Diana didn’t move; she barely seemed to register the other woman’s touch. “Step back, Agent Danvers. 

Maggie choked, still struggling against the pain and the heartsick and the love she felt. “It’s complicated. I can’t just—“ she sputtered, her eyes meeting Alex’s again. Alex who, in the absence of being able to do anything else, had come around the other side and was kneeling, taking Maggie’s other hand. Diana took Maggie’s face in her hands. “It is useless to fight it,” she said, and Maggie saw that yes, it was. “Jaime,”’she said aloud,” Jaime and—“

As if by its own accord, the lasso slipped from her wrist and Maggie slumped forward into Alex’s shoulder. “Fuck,” she half-sobbed. Alex had her arms around her now, and Maggie could feel the other woman’s body trembling.

“That was uncalled for, Diana,” Alex said, her voice laced with rage. 

Diana stood up and tucked the lasso back at her side. “I’m sorry, but it was a necessity. Time is of essence, Detective Sawyer, and you are the only one with the highest personal stakes on this mission. Your heart is where I suspected. Hades may actually grant your request.”  


Maggie said up suddenly. She shot Diana a look of barely conceiled fury, but her voice was calm and measured. “I have conditions.”  


Superman looked at Diana uncertainly. He too was clearly perturbed by what had happened. “Of course,” he said. “Name them.” 

Maggie looked down and rubbed her wrist. It felt like a phantom pain now. There were no burn marks, nothing to remind her of her ordeal. Alex’s hand was still on her back, warm and so familiarly comforting. That hurt more. “Jaime needs to get out of this place. She’s been cooped up. And I want to spend some time with her. Outside.

“It will take some time to prepare for the journey,” Diana said. She looked at Superman, who nodded.

“I think if I volunteer as escort, the HOJ won’t balk,” he said.  


Maggie nodded, “Good. And,” she looked at them. “If anything happens to me down there, I want your word that Jaime doesn’t go back to Nebraska. She pulled out her notepad and a pen from her jacket pocket and scrawled down a number. “Diana, you know my old partner, Dan Turpin. Anything happens to me you contact him about Jaime’s welfare. He knows what to do. You don’t send her back to that place.” 

She pushed away from Alex and left the room. 

She was halfway down the corridor when Alex caught up with her. 

“Maggie. Wait.”

“What?” she snapped, turning, her voice shaking slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said softly. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“You think?” The feelings were still there, like a knot in her chest, and she still felt the tingle on her wrist from the rope. 

Without a word, Alex closed the distance between them and pulled Maggie into a hard embrace. Maggie felt her hand slide up her back, her other cupping her face. Her eyes searched Maggie’s, seeking permission and Maggie knew that she wouldn’t have time to answer.

Instead, she let Alex draw her into a kiss that could never be tentative. It already felt too fast, as if Maggie was pouring all of those feelings evoked by the lasso through her lips, through the fevered warmth of her body. They pulled apart at the same time, as if they both sensed it— Too soon. Too crazy. Too much at stake. Maggie’s breath was heavy and Alex’s hands still grazed her face like she was trying to commit it to memory.  


“That’s quite a rope trick,” Maggie said.

“Yeah.” Alex let out a breathy laugh and Maggie reached up and placed her hands over Alex’s, looking into her eyes as she gently drew them down.

“This isn’t the time for this,” she said.

Alex nodded.“I know.” Her lip curled in a sad smile, but her hands squeezed Maggie’s, and Maggie pulled her back in, raised her head and placed a hard kiss on her forehead. “I hear you, Danvers. And there will be time. Just not now.”

With that, she felt Alex gently pull her hands away and slip around her shoulders. “That’s why I’m going with you,” she said.

A day ago, Maggie might have protested, but it seemed ridiculous now. Besides, if there was ever a test to see if things could work out between them, you couldn’t do better than a trip to hell.


	54. No Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory for Lena and fluff mostly.

When she was twelve-years-old, Lena Luthor met her first alien, an incident that, for Lillian, marked those first signs of recalcitrance from her adoptive daughter. Luthor Corp was holding one of its science and technology competitions, ostensibly to help bright kids develop their talents, but through which Lionel hoped to siphon any ideas or innovations through the plasticity of US patent law.

Luthor Corp had done well with such competitions, mining technology that was now used in weapons development and medicine, and up until that year, they’d gotten away with it. The parents of such children were often just grateful of the recognition, and when they weren’t, they could rarely afford a lawyer worthy enough to contend with the Luthor fortune.

One lawyer was, however. His name was Arthur Feldman and his client was one Ariana Zoess, a fourteen-year-old girl who’d invented a compound lens allowing an ordinary human being to get an alien’s eye view of the world. Or one species of alien. Cafjens had a combination of capidocelli and compound lenses capable of detecting the slightest movements over miles of distance. In her testimony, Ariana claimed to have experimented on retina samples donated by one Horace Netto, an elderly Cafjen who shared the same floor of a walk up with the Zoess family. Cafjens molted regularly, and not only skin and hair, but sensory as well as vital organs. Ariana had befriended Horace, an elderly man, who tutored her in math and science, and when she proposed the experiment, he offered up his eyes.

So, there was Ariana Zoess, doing the experiment in the hope that “maybe people could use it to see how their pets see,” or to “maybe make cool enhancements for 3-D glasses.” The Luthors saw a different and far more lucrative use: Government defense contracts with a few covert foreign arms deals on the side. They immediately slapped their names on the patent, but Zoess had Feldman and the old Cafjen to provide step-by-step details on the girl’s process. The legal fight made it to the paper. Perry White, then a thirty-something mover at the Daily Planet began a scathing series of editorials on ripping off kids; Cat Grant, seeing a tasty morsel, invited Zoess and Feldman as guests on her talk shows whose viewers worldwide were in the hundreds of millions. And Lena, perhaps not for the first time, gained more insight into how her parents really saw philanthropy.  
The morning she saw Zoess on Cat Grant’s show, she’d walked across the crowded intersection near her school to a pay phone and found Feldman’s firm in an old fashioned yellow book.

“Is this Mr. Feldman’s office,” she’d said to the receptionist, proud of herself for sounding so adult. “My name is Lena Luthor and I have some information that may help him in the Zoess case.”

  
Feldman protected her anonymity, the Luthors settled out of court, and Ariana Zoess’ invention really did go on to advance veterinary medicine. For her part, Lena met the Cafjen and collected a heart valve and a kidney from Horace Netto as a reward, the latter which later helped her in the design of a cooling system in space suit memory alloys. Stealing like her mother did was wrong, but a little negotiation for what you wanted in exchange for a good deed? Where was the harm?

Lillian never confronted Lena, but she knew. Lena knew this from the subtle, yet painful punishments her adoptive mother threw her way. The entire summer at a remote camp in the wilderness, the sudden shunning by kids she thought were her friends, but Lena also knew how to push back. She and the Cafjen remained friends, with Lena biking to the park near his apartment when she could to play chess. It was Netto who taught her to beat Lex.

  
Lena Luthor was no stranger to aliens. She didn’t balk or blink an eye when confronted with different eating preferences or acts that might have stretched any one else’s moral relativism to its limits. But sharing intimacy with an alien, this was different. When she’d thought about intimacy, she’d only thought about it with Kara, but now, despite the obvious fact that they had flown to this suite at the National City Arms, there were some differences. The first being that Kara evinced an innocence mingled with a complete lack of self-consciousness. She’d heard all about the mental gymnastics Alex had gone through in coming out, and Lena herself remembered a sizable freak out after her first time in boarding school, but Kara, sweet Kara, who now sat tucked around her on the sofa, merely seemed happy. Imagine, someone being happy—with her.

  
“I should go,” Kara said as if in answer. She nestled her head into Lena’s shoulder and Lena leaned back into her and closed her eyes. “I’m your boss and don’t want you to,” she said. 

“Oh really?” Kara said, tugging lightly at the fabric of Lena’s collar. “Well, boss, if I’m ever going to get Alex going on that blood work or catch...” As she spoke, she tightened her arm around Lena’s waist, letting her hand graze Lena’s stomach. She felt herself going limp all over again.

“We haven’t even talked much, have we?” Kara said.

  
“About us?”

  
“About you.” She placed a kiss on Lena’s neck and started working her way up.

  
“Do we...” she said, reaching up to touch Kara’s face, “or have we received more...information...since we flew here?”

  
Kara laughed and Lena shifted until she was facing her, their foreheads touching.

  
“Last I checked, I’m not a telepath,”’Kara said, slipping her hands down to the small of the other woman’s back.

  
“Oh really?” Lena said. She leaned in to kiss her, letting her weight fall against the Kryptonian as she curled her arms around her neck. Kara pulled her closer. It felt as if they were constructing a new language between them, a new way of being in the world. What once was a human/ alien friend ship was now possibly and alien/ alien, woman/ woman relationship. Words likely wouldn’t ever be enough. So many changes in one day—grand and terrifying.

They kissed for a long minute until Kara shifted and suddenly Lena found herself being lifted up and carried toward the bed. This was happening so fast.

  
“W-wait. Don’t ,” Lena said, in between kisses, “you...have...to...go?”

  
Kara answered with a final, lingering kiss before pulling back the bed covering. “I do,” she said. “And when I come back, I plan to have more answers.”

  
Lena laughed as Kara placed her gently on the soft down of the mattress. The Kryptonian gave it and Lena a longing glance and ran a finger down the other woman’s cheek. “You get some rest. I’ll be back to wake you up.”

 


	55. Humans and Hybrids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Was traveling for a bit. Updates will happen more often from here on out.

"It's a T-Rex," Jon said. He pointed up at the bones, now hanging above them like some monstrous piece of wreckage. The ribs cast train track shadows through sunlight cubing the floor. “It’s obvious that’s what it is.” He squinted at Jaime, who hands in pockets, stubbornly shook her head.

  
"No, it isn't,” she said. She took two broad steps under the spine and thrust her fingers up at a chunk of vertebrae. “See that? There are tiny holes. The bones have an internal cavity system like a sauropod.”

“So?”

Alex chuckled inwardly as Jon’s brow crinkled. He cocked his head, displaying a strong whiff of that Lois Lane skepticism. It always amused her when she saw that same expression on his mother. In fact, it amazed her to no end that Clark had managed to trick her for so long.  
  
“The holes are air pockets,” Jaime continued. “They lessened the stress when the thing landed. This one had wings.”  
  
“Where?” Jon said. He lifted his head and walked backwards, trying to see.  
  
Jaime shrugged. “You can’t see them now. The bones of hybrid creatures wear more easily, but the is clearly an alien manipulation. Someone dropped by on this guy’s parents a hundred million years or so ago.”  
  
Jon's eyes were still narrowed, but his disbelief was loosening into uncertainty. "Really? Where did you learn that?"  
  
Jaime shrugged, her confidence dissipating. “I just know.”  
  
It was clear that she wasn’t trying to be arrogant, that this sudden show of expertise unsettled her as well. Jon walked up and placed a hand on the older child’s shoulder. “You know my dad has access to Kryptonian Earth science archives. We could look when we get back. Maybe we’ll find a new species.”  
  
Jaime relaxed into a smile. "That would be cool.”  
  
Alex glanced cautiously over at Maggie who was contemplating the scene with a less lighthearted expression. "Smart kid,” she said. “I'm glad they get along so well. Jon's a bit of a handful."  
  
Maggie’s mouth quirked slightly, but she didn't answer. And Alex didn't push. She looked worried, sure, and there was an awful lot to worry about, but she didn’t want to ruin the easy rapport that was growing between them. Hell, she considered it a privilege that Maggie had even asked her to spend this time with them, with her and Jaime, on an outing that might very well prove to be their last together. She wasn’t going to ruin it with talk of the mission. Or their future. Or lack thereof.  
  
That’s why what happened next surprised her.  
  
"How did you do it, Alex?"  
  
Maggie’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible, and Alex had to do a double take because Maggie hadn’t even looked up. Instead, her eyes followed Jon and Jaime with a mildly grave expression. “I uh...didn't spend much time with her. I was in the academy when she was born. Didn't get back to Nebraska often. Jaime's always been a smart kid, but this..." She bit her bottom lip and shook her head slowly.

  
Alex looked away, not wanting Maggie to read the hope that was so clearly lighting up her features. Maggie opening up. Maggie trusting her again. “You mean with Kara?” she said.  
  
So, she’d noticed. It was stupid to think she wouldn’t. The other children had been displaying similar abilities, unexpected stores of knowledge, although very little of their claims had been confirmed yet. That was another issue, to be dealt with once they could ensure their safety. But if a quarter of what these kids said was true, Clark had joked, they’d need to remap the known galaxy and rewrite most of the Encyclopedia Galactica.  
  
Maggie looked at her finally. “Yeah. With Kara.How?”  
  
Jon and Jaime had run up ahead and were gawking at replica of Homo Heidelbergensis, jutting out their jaws and making comical grunting noises. Maggie and Alex turned toward them, watchful, but deliberately slowing their steps.  
  
Alex lowered her head and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "I guess I’d say take it day by day," Alex said, “Expect the new. Try to see it as something to look forward to.”

”If she doesn’t turn,” Maggie said.

Alex stopped in her tracks. “She won’t,” she said firmly. “I—we won’t let that happen.”

Maggie seemed to take that in and a wan semblance of a smile returned to her face. “No, we won’t.”

Alex exhaled nervously, barely concealing the cautious happiness that was forcing its way up. “Just uh...try not to be reactive. Not that you've ever been the type to react. I was pretty much the head of the freak out department."

Maggie’s smile grew a little broader. "I’m not complaining. A lot of your freak-outs saved lives.”  
  
“Yeah?” Alex found herself transfixed by the smaller woman’s gaze. "It's going to be fine, Maggie. You’ll both be. Turns out you're way more suited to being a Mom than I am."  
  
Alex had meant it as a concession, as an encouragement. But Maggie's face tightened at the word. That same word that had stopped her dead in the parking lot after Psi had let loose with the wrecking ball. "I'm not a mom, Alex,” she said.  
  
Alex tried to speak and found her voice caught in her throat. She’d gone too far. Ruined things. She lowered her eyes and held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like—"  
  
But Maggie turned and reached out her own and Alex’s heart stilled at the mild pressure of the other woman’s fingers encircling her own.  
  
“Hey. I didn’t mean it that way either,” Maggie said.Her tone was gentle and circumspect. “What I meant is that I had a Mom. And a Dad. But I was raised by an aunt who loved me and accepted me, and did me one better than my parents ever could. If I can be half of what Luisa was,” she shrugged, “then why be a mom?”

Maggie smiled fully then, a hint of mischief in her dark eyes and Alex found she had to blink hard at the sight. “You’re trying to make me cry, aren’t you?”

”Me?” Maggie threw her head back and laughed, and for the first time since before their separation, Alex saw that shine return to her eyes, those dimples that made her heart melt. Maggie turned, but she didn’t let go of Alex’s hand. Instead, she tugged her lightly toward Jon and Jaime and Alex more than happily stumbled behind her.  
  
“What do you say, Danvers? Shall we go check out that Neanderthal over there?”  
  
“I think you mean Denisovan,” Alex said.  


”Nerd.”


	56. Blood Ties

"Kara," Clark turned around quickly, the gust from her sudden entrance causing his lab equipment to rattle. Kara, for her part, reared back in surprise as she skidded to a stop. "I thought you were with Maggie and Jaime,” she said.

  
Clark had lurched forward to keep the equipment from crashing to the floor. He had in front of him a Kryptonian crystal and placed it gently back under the light as he adjusted his glasses. "Maggie has the watch and Alex wanted to go so...I actually had to look into something."

  
Clark seemed mildly embarrassed, as if she’d interrupted him. But her mind was elsewhere.

  
She rushed over to Alex's temporary work station, her face sagging with disappointment as she saw the note written in a hasty scrawl "Sorry," it read,”so, so much to tell you. The results should be in by tomorrow."

Clark glanced at her with concern."Everything okay?"

"Oh...sure," Kara said. "I was just checking on Lena’s test results. She was,” she paused, not certain how much she should tell her cousin. “She wasn’t feeling very well.”

  
She coughed and Clark met her with a lopsided smile. “You’d think a Luthor would have access to the entirety of Metropolis General.”

He wasn’t kidding, she realized. She ran a hand through her hair and turned away. “It’s a bit more than the flu.”

  
"Well...” Clark lifted up the crystal and turned it under the lamp. It made a strange humming sound, the kind of note you heard when you skimmed fingers over a wine glass. “All I’m saying is that sometimes friendship can cloud your ability to judge—“

  
“It’s more than that, too,” Kara said.

  
Clark paused, waiting as Kara, her arms folded, raised her head slowly to face him. Her expression was one of forced calm, but her eyes were clear, certain.

Clark put crystal down quickly, clumsily,  as if he worried it would ignite. 

“Oh...” he said finally.  
Before he could continue, Kara lifted her hand. Pressing her the fingers of her other against the tightness in her chest. "I knew this would be a problem for you.”

Clark sighed, letting his shoulders relax slightly. He reached up to tug at his ear. “Kara, you know it isn’t. Not that. There were no issues with that on Krypton, why uncle Zaltar and Kren-Vor had the—“

  
“Biggest same-sex wedding in Argo city,” Kara snapped. “I know, Clark. I’m the one who actually remembers it.”

  
“Right,” Clark said. He slumped down into his chair and sprawled out, his hands resting on his knees. “Look. I just don't want you to be hurt. If it's...romantic with her...you could even be more vulnerable. The Luthors—“

"The Luthors,” Kara closed her eyes and smiled. “What about the Daxamites? Mon-El was okay, but Lena isn’t? I mean, his mother wanted to rule the Earth with an iron fist. At least Lex was under the delusion that he was freeing the people.”

  
“Never forget from who,” Clark said, his voice was raised slightly and Kara started at the difference in tone. She’d rarely seen him like that. “From us.”  
Clark removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I just don’t want you to make the mistake I made by trusting in the wrong people. People who’d wipe us from the face of the earth if they could.”

  
Kara swallowed and took a step forward. “What if I told you that Lena is like us?”She inhaled deeply and took a seat next to him. "That alloy in Tierney’s device. It affects her the way Kryptonite does you and me. A mix of Kalanium and the element used to make the decoy Kryptonite. I don’t know how exactly, but it made Lena sick. I need to know where those aliens got that material. The Zakkarians—“

Clark’s face went pale. “Kara,” he said, “I need to show you something.” He stood up and picked up the crystal, gesturing for her to come closer. "Look," he said. "This is the sliver Alex and I used to activate the dream stone. It looks unchanged, but its molecular structure has completely altered, the function is different."

He ran his fingers over it and again, the same gentle hum floated up from its surface. 

“I think there could be a connection,” he said. “Maybe Lena has alien blood, or maybe she’s been altered.”


	57. Invisibility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fun here. Not sure if I executed these scenes properly and will probably scream at their awkwardness later. Revision is two parts screaming. Metropolis is a mix of real and imagined places and if BvS (Gah, I'm sorry I've said that name. Dashes on Kryptonite holy water) can turn Gotham and Metropolis into the Twin Cities, then Portland bands from the 90s can slap up posters there. Thanks for reading. Comments and feedback are appreciated.

"Are you and Alex engaged again?"

  
Maggie blinked at the question. Just a moment ago, she and Jaime were leaning easily against the poster-spattered wall of Joe's, a popular pizzeria in Metropolis. Alex had taken Lois and Jon home, promising to rejoin them and the two had killed time in line, the way people in lines used to do before phones, commenting on the band names on the flyers--Evil Pickle Head, the Hell Cows-- guessing at the lives of the passersby. Like Maggie, Jaime was extremely observant, and Maggie enjoyed listening to the girl piece together complex personalities based on the colors of others' socks, the way they walked, or gesticulated as they talked into their headsets. But Jaime had also been observing Maggie all along, and although it shouldn't have taken her by surprise, Maggie was caught off guard all the same.

  
"No," Maggie said. She looked down at the girl. "How much did your Mom tell you about us?"

  
Jaime lifted her shoulder, tilting her head against it as if gauging how to respond. "A little," she said. "She told me before that we were going to National City for the wedding. But she said not to bring it up around Uncle Oscar because he and Aunt Elena weren't invited. And then," Jaime looked at Maggie, "she just stopped talking about it."

  
Maggie nodded and slipped an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Your Mom was dealing with a lot then."

  
Jaime squinted, her brow furrowing slightly. "Yeah, I know. It just felt kind of weird because she still asked me if I wanted to live in National City when we weren't even going there on a visit anymore. And she didn't talk about you and Alex."

  
Maggie felt her chest tighten. Luisa must have been pretty sick by then. The decision about what to do with Jaime was likely weighing on her, making her symptoms worse. Imagine trying to guess a child's reaction to a future she didn't know was coming. She ran a finger through Jaime's hair and felt a strange surge of regret and relief: What if Luisa had asked her to take Jaime in before the kids debacle with Alex? Would it have stopped them from being torn apart or precipitated it? If it was the latter, she thought, it would have meant losing them both. Her mind flipped forward from the past to the immediate future. They were leaving. Tomorrow. For a place Maggie still couldn't quite make herself believe existed. She felt an involuntary shudder pass through her and Jaime, ever observant, reached up and tugged at her sleeve. "I like Alex," Jaime said, in a voice so mature, Maggie felt her heart skip. "I want you to know that."

  
"That makes me really happy, kiddo." Maggie turned toward the entrance of the restaurant and caught a whiff of beer hops and the wood fire oven. A brief sense of comfort returned to her as she saw Turpin approaching them through the crowd. With Alex there, it would feel like the world was complete, if only for a moment.

  
"Hey," she said. "Sorry." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Been on the phone all afternoon with Gordon. Found another nest outside of Gotham. And Montoya's just shaken down a few Parkland administrators who might have been complicit. Fucking Skyhook's dipped into its pockets quite a few schoolboard elections. Fucking grassroots."

  
Maggie nodded pointedly down at Jaime and Turpin slapped himself in the forehead. "Shit. I mean, sorry. Where are my manners? Jaime?"  
Jaime gave Maggie a sly smile. "Only in circumstances."

  
Maggie grinned as she leaned down and whispered, "We cops have lots of circumstances. This is Dan, Jaime. Jaime, Dan."

  
Jaime's eyes brightened and she reached out her hand like an an adult. "Thanks for the orb," she said, and Turpin met her with a firm shake. "Glad you like it. It's good luck."

"It is," Jaime said. "Did you know it shows the Keligar constellation in the Galaxy M-21? That's really, really old. As in when the guys who were looking through a telescope to see it actually saw it, the stars were already gone."

  
"Really?" Turpin looked at Maggie uncertainly.

"That's a wish coming true, right?" Jaime said. "To see something that isn't there here anymore. Or to still be seen even after the universe has erased you." 

Turpin's eyes went wide. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. That's...a good point."

  
The waiter called out their party, leading them past a tight mess of packed tables toward a booth in the back corner. Above it hung posters of different owners of the restaurant's namesake-- Joe Dimaggio, Jo March, and Little Joe from Bonanza.  As they squeezed their way through the narrowly arranged tables, adorned in retro newspaper placemats and carved with decades of initials, Maggie's phone rang in her pocket. It was Alex. She stopped, stepping into an alcove that into the kitchen. By the time the phone was pressed against her ear, she already felt a wave of disappointment.

"Hey. Listen, I'm not going to make it back," Alex said. "Lois says you can give her a call. She'll come down to get you guys."

"Everything okay?" Maggie said. She could hear the low hum of an expensive and well-tuned engine, the sound of wind and the rise and fall pitch of  passing cars as she waited for Alex's response.  

  
"Yeah, yes. I'm just in the lab. Kara needs my help. Think you could maybe bring some pizza back to Clark's tonight?"  
  
Maggie swallowed at the lie. Alex had always been such a lousy liar, and Maggie reminded herself that this was why she knew she could trust her. She forced herself to smile. "You okay with that, Danvers? Sure you're okay with pizza as your last meal before the great beyond."

  
Alex lowered her voice. "I'm having what you're having, Sawyer."

"Yeah?"

"Always."

The phone went dead and Maggie forced herself to keep the smile on her face, but by the time she got to the table, her expression had soured slightly.  
"You okay?" Turpin asked.  
Maggie nodded. She was disappointed, sure. But either Alex had something serious to contend with or she'd grown uncertain again about the two of them and was keeping her distance. Neither possibility was one she could be faulted for. "Yeah, I'm good."

  
Turpin reached into his pocket and pulled out some change. "Hey, Jaime. See that over there? They've got a-"

  
"A really, really old video game," Jaime said sharply. She held out her hand and accepted the coins, shrugging as she walked away from the table. "No green peppers. You want to talk cop stuff? Just tell me." The two adults watched in mild awe as the child walked over to the ancient Galaga machine and dropped in a coin. 

  
"Thanks for that," Maggie said, exhaling sharply."Alex isn't going to make it."

Turpin raised his hand and gestured to the waiter. "That's probably good because I'm still kind of pissed about what she did to you." He smiled. "Things okay with you two?"

"I don't know," she said. "But I'm hoping for it. That's what scares me."

#

"So sorry to drag you away like this," Kate Kane said. She was driving breezily through the tangle of the Metropolis rush hour, sunglasses perched on her nose despite the waning light, her hair tied up in a Chanel scarf. She looked like Maureen O'Hara, Alex thought, with biceps and a Glock strapped to her waist--and 'drag' was an understatement. As soon as Alex had said her goodnights to Lois and Jon, Kane had come screeching around the corner in a convertible and yanked Alex into the front passenger seat. Alex had landed in that front seat with her fists swinging until she recognised the driver, who responded to Alex's flailing with an iron grip as the other hand blithely turned the steering wheel. "It's just me, darling. Calm yourself."

"You!" Alex managed. She scoffed. "Of course."

  
"I _did_ try to be discrete," Kane said, her voice as smooth and calm as mint tea. They were already flying through the outskirts of the city, the wind their hair back. "Couldn't let Mags see."

"Why?" Alex said, still struggling to jam her seat belt into the buckle as the car swerved up a side road toward Meridian Peak. 

Kate laughed. "Reasons, which I'll apprise you of when we get to where we're going. Some personal. Mags still has some guilt issues when it comes to me and her girlfriends."

  
"Oh really?" Alex said, bristling at Kate's of the 'G' word on her. She finally snapped the buckle in place just as the road started to even out. "You seemed pretty affectionate with her the last time I saw you."

  
Kate shrugged. "She needed it, and…" she glanced over at her, "I do still care about her, Danvers. 'Twas not meant to be, but--"

  
"Better call me Alex," she said, gritting her teeth. "Please enlighten me as to why I'm--" the car lurched again and Alex felt herself jerking forward, "here."

Kane answered with another sharp corner and Alex's elbow slammed painfully into the door handle. "You heard about Emily?"

  
Alex nodded, not liking where this was going. "Of course. Why would I not--And that's not what I was referring to. Why am I in this car? Now?"

  
Kane ignored her. "That one was my bad," she said. She shifted into first gear and turned off the road into some brambles, slipping past a clearly designated private property sign. It was near dark and Alex glanced back to see the sign for 'Meridian Peak' shrinking behind them. "Mags and I were friends," Kane continued. "It was right at the end of my bad year. I'd been pushed out of the military, was drinking a lot, turning into my very own version of Justin Bieber. That's when I met Maggie. She was a beat cop, had just graduated from the academy then. But she wanted to do more, wanted to serve in the way I wanted to serve. So, we started helping each other out. Trading intel, sharing information about police procedure, the military," she glanced at Alex. "I think Mags got the better deal."

  
She slowed the car at the sight of two eyes glinting into the headlights and Alex caught her breath at the sight of a fox scampering back into the brush.  

"But we were similar creatures. Maggie wanted to be a detective, and I wanted to be...something. I didn't know what just yet. But Emily? Emily wanted a fellow lawyer, a house in Connecticut or Oak Park. She had Maggie convinced that law school was the only way." Kate rolled her eyes. "House, commute, kids."

  
Alex felt her stomach lurch. "Maggie wanted kids?"

  
Kate snorted. "Hell no! That was red flag number one."

  
She laughed, half-relieved. "And I suppose you were red flag number two."

  
Kate raised a finger. "You could say that. I guess what I'm trying to say here, Alex is that Maggie really wasn't the type to be unfaithful. There was a whole mess of other things going on."

  
"What happened then?" Alex asked, feeling ridiculous and jealous at the same time. Ludicrous for even asking.

  
"To Emily?"

  
"No, to you two?"

  
"It ran its course. We were what the other one needed for a while, and we're still friends. She talked about you all the time, Alex. Called me often when you were together, when you got engaged. After that break up, my god, I was really fucking worried about her. Almost came out to National City and took her back to Gotham by force."

  
Alex felt a twinge of guilt rise up inside her. Kate pulled to a stop and patted Alex's arm. "She loves you, Alex. And I don't want you to fuck this up, which is why..." She cut the ignition and opened the car door, "I brought you out here."

They had emerged into a clearing that might have doubled for an ancient ruin. Stones jutted from the grass and rows of tall pines fanned out around them, framing the starlit sky. Up ahead was an opening from which the Alex could see the whole of Metropolis sprawled out below.

  
"It's beautiful," she said. Kate opened the trunk of the car.

  
"And more importantly, private. But yeah, I thought you might appreciate a view from on high seeing as you're going below."

  
Alex turned to her surprised. "How did you…"

Kate cocked her head. "Really?"

  
"Okay, right," Alex said, shaking her head. "The Batwoman."

  
"You're welcome," Kate said. "Anyway," she pulled a bottle of champagne out of the trunk and opened it with a swift pop, pouring two glasses. She handed one to Alex. "Ambience requires a little booze."

  
Alex raised her glass in a toast and took a sip despite the dour expression on her face. But after that ride and its accompanying monologue, she needed a drink. The bubbles were pleasant on her tongue and there was a bite to it. Nice and sharp that warmed her like brandy.

  
"You must love her very much to be going into Tartarus with her," Kane said. 

  
"I do," Alex said. "And I'd like to be with her right now. You want to explain why we're here? And why this is such a sec--"

  
Alex took another sip of the wine and turned. Kate was nowhere to be seen. She sighed and shook her head. "Great!" She heard a rustling in the brush and tossed the glass away, reaching for her gun. "You know I can hear you," she said.

  
There was a shimmer, refracting the dimming light of the clearing, and then Kate appeared in front of her. She reached up and tapped at a thin line of wiring tucked around her ears. "My own version of Hades' invisibility helmet," she said. "More like a headset. Not as good as _his_ apparently. It's not magic and it only works in the darkness, but from everything I've read, it _is_ dark down there. I thought we'd spar with it a little before you take it with you. Might be good to know what you're up against if things don't work out."

  
Alex shook her head. Kate had riled her up enough that a good sparring session sounded like just the thing and she snorted appreciatively. That had been intentional. Like all the best training sessions at the DEO, the ones that doubled-up with the mind games were always the most effective.

"Okay, Kane," she said, rolling up her sleeves. "I call dibs on that thing the next round."


	58. Weight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes into the sciencey language of comic books; in other words, a “but I was going to Toshi station to pick up some power converters!” word salad with a creamy bullshit dressing. Accuracy is not the goal here, but if there’s anything too egregious, would love it if you’d let me know in the comments.

 

“Oh, so I get both of you now.”

 Alistair Tierney folded his hands and leaned back as languidly as one could in a dented up metal chair. He’d regained some of his arrogance after the previous bout of cowering in front of Kara and was treating the interrogation room like a 5-star hotel suite. Kara and Superman sat across from him, both in uniform, a bright wall of red and blue that created a mordant, carnival contrast to its halogen-tinted gray.

Superman slipped several affidavits from a file and lined them up neatly on the table in front of him.

“Where is my lawyer?” Tierney said.

“Oh, no worries,” Kara shrugged, innocently. She felt some of that same thrill she had experienced during her first days as a reporter, when she and Clark had first walked into Lena’s office, a team. She glanced over at her cousin. “We’re not here to get him to _talk_ , right?”

“No,” Superman said. He looked back at Tierney. “We just want you to listen. That okay with you?”

 Tierney rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to his chin. There was something about him, Kara thought, a stunted kind of sleekness that reminded her of a very old cat. 

 “The Metropolis S.C.U. has been talking to some friends of yours,” Superman continued. “We have all the information we need to tie you to both their Zakkarian trafficking scheme, not to mention the narcotics and the illegal stockpiles of alien weaponry. More than enough evidence to put you away indefinitely. Maxwell Lord helped us with that.”

Tierney's nostrils flared and he pushed out a laugh. "Did he?" That one had hit its mark. 

 “We just wanted you to know, you know, in case you had anything to help us out,” Kara said. “Not in your defense of course. You’re too far under for that, but being such a great humanitarian...”

 Tierney straightened and looked away, but it was clear his ego was getting to him. The loss of his image might have been a worse blow than a loss of freedom. “As I said,” he muttered quietly. “I had no intention of harming those children. They were like me. I wanted more children like me to succeed.”

“Aww,” Kara said.

 Tierney’s jaw set and he looked up at her. “Easy for you, Kara Zor-El. I’ve learned enough of Krypton to know that you came from an elite family. And what luck,” he lifted his hand, gesturing to the symbol on her chest, “to drop from on elite home into another, in a country where half the population lives in poverty. You never wanted for anything.”

“You don't know anything about me,” Kara said, uncertainty hollowing her voice. Tierney was playing her. Like most hyper confident men, he had the ramped up ability of a cheap psychic to get you to talk about yourself, offer up your insecurities. She felt a surge of anger at the truth and the lie in his claim. She _had_ been luckier than most; that was certain, but for most of her life, she’d wanted for her parents, for her home, for an unworried sense of belonging she might never feel again. Alex had asked her once during a teenage blow up if maybe that feeling wasn’t just childhood. Kara didn’t speak to her for days.

She took a deep breath and changed the subject, hoping he hadn’t seen the subtle shift in her expression.

“You know what bothers me most, is why an altruist like yourself would align yourself with these groups. The kind of outfits that take advantage of desperate people, of refugees. Do you know the failure rate for Zakkarian smuggling portals? Half the people who pay to come through end up in the void or otherworldly…I don’t know how to describe them…hellscapes?” Why would a successful man, a good man, risk all he had for that?”

 “As a way to transfer information more quickly,” Tierney said, “a faster vector.”

The confession stunned both Kryptonians into a momentary silence. Kara avoided Superman’s eyes and leaned back, letting the CEO continue.

 He leaned forward, his hands pressed to the table, fingertips losing color as he said, once more, “I did not predict the effect on those children. After all, nothing bad had happened to me. My research into neuroscience showed me a way for the working memory to take in larger chunks of information, information that could be transferred more easily to hippocampus. It could only be done through spectral transference. It turns out that structure of quark-gluon plasma in cosmic background radiation is compatible with neurons in the human brain. The don, he said it was alchemy. I knew differently. I knew that Kalanium had potential as a conductor, worked for years developing the technology without success. Who'd have thought I'd need aliens with genuine alchemical abilities.” He laughed, mimicking an American accent. “Who’d have thunk it?”

“Trommites,” Superman said. He glanced at Kara, clearly unsettled. “You got the Trommites to alter the Kalanium so you could use it as a conductor. You do know that Trommite abilities are unstable outside of the atmosphere of their home world.”

Kara felt a knot in her stomach. This was bad. This was why Trommites, prior to Roxas’ Invasion, adhered religiously to laws forbidding them from using their abilities for profit on other worlds. Chemical and elemental research was welcome, but their experiments were done strictly in labs on the home world where evolution had conspired with the planet’s unique geology to form an electro-magnetic field damper on nano-particles. An attempt to change lead into gold on a neighboring planet, however, could mutate into the grey goo prophecy, uranium poisoning, any other number of disasters. Some had been hard-pressed enough to risk it, using their abilities for limited weapon hacks and drug production, the effects of which were yet to be seen, but most just wanted a safe place to land and maybe, live out their lives. Her mind raced to Lena. Maybe Clark’s theory was right. She was human, but somehow susceptible—something in the metal had changed her. But why only her? And what of Jaime? And the other kids? Was this why the ones in comas had materialized those creatures? Were the conscious ones still undergoing transformation?

 “The don told me that the compound was the oldest in the universe,” Tierney said. He smiled curiously at Kara. “Do you know what dark energy is, Kara Zor-El?”

“Nobody knows.” Clark said. “Not even physicists on Krypton did.”

“Krypton…” Tierney chuckled into his hand, “So empirical they couldn’t see their way out of their destruction. That’s funny. You know, dark matter and dark energy take up about 96 percent of the universe. You'd think Kryptonians might have invested in figuring that one out.”

 “I don’t think we need a lecture cribbed from New Scientist,” Kara said, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. Lena was waiting for her and Tierney had confessed enough, “but thank you.”

 “You sure you don’t want to hear?” he said as she pushed back her chair.  “It’s all in here." He tapped his forehead. "Consciousness. Creation. Choice. Every poem, every story, every scientific idea or work of art by human or alien. We tap into it when we sleep, when we dream, when you cook a new recipe from the paltry ingredients in your refrigerator, you’re drawing from it now, aren’t you? It brings weight and heft and meaning to our lives just as gravity weighs down our bodies. All I’ve done is harness its rawest form. Something is weighing you down, isn’t it? I saw the two of you that night, in the restaurant. It’s okay. We all need that weight.”

 Kara exhaled and stood up abruptly. So, Tierney wasn't playing her. He'd known her identity and about her feelings for Lena all along. She felt sick and even angrier that he'd made her feel that way at all.

Clark saw her expression and nodded gently for her to leave. "I'll take care of the rest."

“Make sure J’onn mind wipes him when we get out of this mess,” she said, her steps sending vibrations through the concrete.

#

Lena saw her expression as she approached her in the waiting room and hurried over to her, her hands circling Kara’s wrists.

“What happened? You’re shaking?”

Kara gently wrested her arms from Lena’s and reached up to cup her face. “I’m fine. And you know what? It looks like you’re fine, too. Your tests came back from the lab. Nothing unusual, although,” he paused and managed to push up a game smile, “you never told me you were B negative. That’s two percent of the population.”

Lena’s eyes widened. “Do you think that has something to do with it?”

Kara chuckled, genuine this time, feeling herself relax in the CEO’s presence. “I’ve already had Winn do a check of the Luthorcorp medical files. Two other B negs in the factory with the Kalanium, none reported symptoms.”

Lena smiled for a brief second before raising an eyebrow. “You had Winn what? Kara, that’s a breach of employee privacy regulations.”

It was Kara’s turn to look surprised until Lena burst out laughing. She reached up and pressed a finger to the other woman’s lips. “Got you. I’m grateful. Really. So, we’ll look into other possibilities.”

At this mention, Kara felt the weight return to her. She didn’t know how much she should tell her. She didn’t want to frighten her.

“My cousin has a few theories. There’s a place up North. Let’s call it an El-corp headquarters where we can run some tests using Kryptonian tech. That should provide us with answers,” she said, her heart melting as she saw Lena’s eyes tear up.

“Thank you,” Lena whispered.

Then Kara pulled Lena into a kiss, not caring who saw, ignoring the phone buzzing in her cape pocket until the last possible second. She reached back and took it out, frowning at the screen.

“D. Prince,” it read.

She leaned in for another kiss before reluctantly pulling away.“I’ve got to take this,” she said.

#

It was well past midnight when Kate Kane dropped Alex off in front of Clark and Lois’s apartment. Not wanting to wake anyone and feeling more than a little shame-faced—Kane had thoroughly clobbered her in four out of five sparring bouts—she didn’t ring up. Even worse, Alex suspected that Kate had been gentle on her. _Really, Kane,_ she thought, wincing as she lifted her arm to punch in the security code, _why inflict injury on a woman going to hell?_

As suspected, the place was dark and quiet as she let herself inside. What had Maggie thought about her disappearing like that? She half hoped her ex would be waiting up for her, but tomorrow—despite their having learned nothing about the actual journey—was the day. Maggie had always been an efficient sleeper. Alex remembered how during their first fights, it was Maggie who would drop off, while Alex would get out of bed to fret and pace, sneaking a finger of scotch from the cabinet and worrying she’d once again done something to ruin everything. But that was why Maggie was so steady; that simple act of slumber intuited real trust, the ability to forgive and move on, and maybe, if you were lucky, keep on.

She took off her shoes in the entrance and crept down the corridor toward the room where Maggie and Jaime were staying, pausing before the door. Maybe they were still awake; maybe she could just whisper a quick apology, a ‘goodnight.’ She took a breath and turned the knob, opening the door just enough to let the dim light from the corridor fall across the tangle of arms and legs on the small fold-out cot. Her breath stilled at the sight of them, the resemblance that relaxed itself into their sleeping faces. Maggie’s arms were curled protectively around Jaime whose hair was matted and stuck to her face.

She’d been crying.

Maggie must have told her. Something. Maybe not everything, but close enough to the truth that the child would have no illusions if they didn’t make it back. She bit her lip and felt a knot form in her chest. Maybe she should have stayed, should have been there tonight for the both of them. She exhaled and shook it off, straightening as she slowly dipped her head out of the room.

Her time with Kate had been an investment in a future for them, a bet on hope, even if there was so little of it to go around.

She let her eyes linger on them for another minute and then reluctantly, she closed the door and went into her room.

 That night she dreamt of the darkness again, the climb up through that cave as Maggie pushed forward, not hearing—or maybe not wanting to. There was a hardness to her shoulders as she pressed ahead, as if she was determined not to answer. A rock falling from a ledge above her jolted her awake. “Shit,” she gasped, feeling her cheek wet against a patch of sweat on her pillow.

Blearily, she tried to pull the sheets off and found her body weighted down, unable to move. She felt around her, reaching down to the shock of soft skin, the warmth of familiar arms wrapped firmly around her.

“Maggie?” Alex whispered. She craned her neck, trying to look back and felt the softness of Maggie's hair against her cheek, smelled of that same lavender shampoo and an oddly comforting hint of tobacco smoke from a bar likely. Alex squeezed her eyes shut tightly, allowing herself to smile. Slowly, she slid her hand down Maggie’s arm and placed her hand over the other woman’s, intertwining their fingers. Half in slumber, Maggie pulled Alex even closer into her warmth.

“You’re here,” she said breathlessly, half to herself.

“Shhh...” Maggie's voice was soft and reassuring. She nestled her face in Alex’s hair. “And yeah, I’m here.”


	59. A Branch in the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hermes: You really wanna go?_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Orpheus: With all my heart._
> 
>  
> 
> _Hermes: Ah, with all your heart. Well...that's a start._
> 
>  
> 
> Anaïs Mitchell, Hadestown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahoy! Don't worry. They'll get through this. And no, the invisibility helmet has not been forgotten. What? Do you think I write for the show? (;

Alex dreamed of home that night, the ocean lapping over the shore, shafts of sunlight glimmering off the cloud shadowed sea. She stood, one hand shading her eyes as the shifting sand worked pleasantly against her bare feet. There was something flickering offshore, a boat perhaps, or the angle of the sunlight refracted from the curve of the earth. She walked forward, eyes narrowing, breathing in the scent of salt and campfire until the light grew in brightness and she blinked awake, squinting against the sunlight in the window. She lifted her arm against the glare and felt around the empty bed.

It was far too late in the morning. And Maggie was gone.

She bolted up and tore off the sheets, reaching over to confirm what she suspected. The digital numbers on the clock read eleven am.

“Who...” Her voice failed her and she pressed her hand against her throat. _Who let this happen?_  Then she yanked her robe from the back of the chair and hurried out into the living room.

Lois was already there, waiting for her, her hands folded in her lap, her expression poised and stubborn. 

“Where are they? They were—” Alex began. She knew, even before Lois sighed and started to speak, that Maggie had gone.

“She didn’t know, Alex,” Lois said. “It was Diana’s decision.”

“So, so you’re saying they left?” Alex said, snorting in disbelief, not that Maggie was gone, but that her friends had betrayed her. Betrayed both of them. The last of her grogginess burned off in a surge of anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Alex…” Lois started. 

Alex lifted her hand to cut her off. She stood there for a moment, almost teetering. Then she whipped around sending her fist toward the wall. “Damn it!”

She pulled the punch before contact and then exhaled, dropping her arm limply to her side, and with her other, ran a hand through her hair. “Shit,” she said, “Just…fuck…why?”

“I have something im--” Lois tried again and stopped herself. Alex was calming down slightly, her anger turning into abject sorrow.

Her hand still twisted in her hair, Alex glanced distantly out the window at the hazy Metropolis skyline. “What is she going to do? Maggie has no experience going off world or even to other Earths,” she looked at Lois, her face hard. “She’s been to the Fortress of Solitude. Once.”

Lois got up and crossed the room, placing a hand on the agent’s shoulder. “Diana said it was for the best. She was only able to take one at a time, the portal— "

“You don’t need to lie to her. Alex can handle it.”

The two women turned to see Jaime standing in the doorway. Alex blinked at the child for a moment as if at a sound from outside before turning back to Lois. “How do I get there? I know Superman knows a way. Where did they go? The Devil’s Throat in Bulgaria? Cape Teneron?”

But Lois was already shaking her head.

“Alex?” Jaime started again and Alex turned back and glared at the child and saw, with an instant pang of regret, the girl's mouth clamp shut. Maggie was gone and here she was snapping at the only family that meant anything to her. Maggie’s words, _you’re going to be a great, mom_ shouted back at her. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jaime.”

“It’s okay,” Jaime said quietly. 

Alex returned her attention to Lois. "I can ask J’onn or Kara to take me, or request a plane from the DEO, I—" 

“You need to stay here, Alex.” 

She turned toward the voice, her eyes closed and her mouth flattening in frustration. Kara was standing in the entrance to the kitchen. She hadn’t even dropped in via the balcony, but had been in their apartment the whole time, waiting for Alex to wake.

“You…” Alex said, her voice thickening with a new layer of disgust, “knew.”

“Well,” Kara said, approaching her. “Diana said it was too much to a risk and I agreed. Alex, you’re the next best chance to finding a solution if Ma…” she looked at Jaime and lightened her voice, “plan A doesn’t work. She didn't want Maggie distracted down there. That would have been far more dangerous for her.”

“So, I’m a distraction?” Alex said, throwing out her hand. “Is that it now?”

Without Alex even seeing it, Kara had her hand around her sister's wrist. She brought it down gently and took it in her own, her voice softening. “Of course not. Now, you’re just being ridiculous. Maggie loves you so much, Alex,” she glanced at Jaime. “Both of you.”

“I know,” Jaime said. The girl walked over to join Kara, reaching up to tug at Alex’s elbow. “She’s right, Alex. You don’t need to worry. Blue Springs and Halterville are way worse than any old underworld. It’s colder and darker and a lot of the people are…” she grimaced. “Maggie’s a bad ass. She’s going to be fine.”

With that the child nodded as if confirming it as fact and Alex felt a knot in her throat. A laugh emerged anyway. She reached up with her free hand and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “Yeah?”

“I’m sure of it,” Jaime said. Alex knelt and drew the child into her arms. “Thanks, kid,” she said. She reached up to cradle the girl’s face in her hand and nearly drew it away in surprise. “You know what? You’re kind of war—”

As she spoke her eyes narrowed on the blue punctures on Jaime’s arms, there were lines of a similar color crawling up her skin, like a network of new veins. Alex pulled back, noting that the child had gone stiff in her arms and pressed a hand to Jaime’s forehead. “Hey… You okay?”

Just then, Kara’s phone went off. Kara looked at them with concern as she pressed the phone to her ear. She turned away from them, but Alex could hear Winn talking excitedly through the speaker.

“Kara,” the agent said breathlessly. “We’ve got a situation on our hands in the quarantine base. The asymptomatic kids are going under.”

Alex and Kara locked eyes. She turned back to Jaime, whose eyes were now distant and devoid of focus. “Jaime? Kiddo?” Alex lifted her thumbs to the girl’s eyelids, lifting them. Her pupils were tiny black pinpricks. No movement. “No,” Alex said. “No, no, no…”

“I’m on the way,” Kara said, putting her phone away. She hurried over and took the girl in her arms. “I’ll get her to the HOJ facility,” she said, wrapping Jaime’s body into her cape.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Alex called out, her voice trembling as Kara and her small bundle lifted off from the balcony. Alex turned to hurry back to her room. She’d throw on what she had and get over there. A hand on her arm stopped her. It was Lois, who’d been quietly watching the entire scene play out.

“Alex, there was something I was trying to tell you before this. My contacts on the off-world coyote story. They say these kids aren’t the only ones infected. Human adults can’t be, but other species of aliens have contracted a similar condition. They say there’s a drug on the black market that tempers the symptoms. A temporary fix.”

“Can you get it?” Alex said.

Lois opened her handbag and plucked out a bio-waste container the size of a compact. “I already have.”

#

Maggie awoke in darkness, her side pressed against cool, damp stone, a blast of cold air, prickled her arms as the sound of rushing water echoed beneath her. She pressed her hand against the wetness, feeling the sharp ridges in the rock face as she waited for her eyes to adjust. They didn’t. 

She was still dreaming. She had climbed into bed with Alex, thinking she would stay, just for a little while until Jaime stirred again. She must have fallen in deep and now her mind was playing tricks on her, ‘waking’ her in her dream to keep her under. She knew how this worked. It happened often when she’d been deep into a case, going 72-hours with not even so much as a cat nap. Alex chided her about the number of alarm clocks she employed during those times. “Our bedroom’s a veritable bomb squad,” she’d say. But Alex was just as bad. More often than not, it was Alex’s wakeful neuroticism that did the job before the clock radio kicked in with a blast of National City’s Morning Circus.

She snorted to herself and pushed back from the wall. The key was to do something, make a move and you’d be jolted back awake. She took a step forward, allowing her weight to fall on her front foot and found nothing but air and empty space. She swallowed a gasp as her hand flailed back, failing to find purchase. “Shit.”

Two strong arms grappled her waist, yanking her back and for a brief instant Maggie hung suspended over nothingness. Her heart fell through her rib cage at the realization. Not a dream.

“Alex?”

“Shhhh,” It was a Diana’s voice. She pulled her into her body, her face pressed close. “We have to wait until they’ve passed,” she whispered.

Maggie reached back and clasped Diana’s arm, her palms feeling the metallic shock of her bracelets. “Where—” Maggie said and was answered by a hand pressed firmly over her mouth.

“Quiet,” Diana hissed. “They’re nearer now.”

Maggie, picking up the hint of fear in the other woman’s voice, stopped struggling as her eyes caught on a subtle flicker of movement below. They were thin streaks of a colorless light undulating on a dark, shimmering surface, lengthening and contracting with the churn. Although it was difficult to gauge their proximity, they seemed to stretch themselves upward, closer, becoming brighter as they lifted above the uniform gloom as if they were sniffing at the air. There was something in their movements, Maggie thought, a hopelessness not unlike that of those Japanese horror films Alex forced on her whenever she lost at pool. In those movies, it never mattered if you were good or bad, a virgin or a bad girl, or just playing around with some ancient curse— run into the wrong house, rent the wrong VHS tape, and it was just your bum luck.

Maggie felt herself shivering and Diana eased the pressure of her hand. She allowed herself a delicious gulp of air. The wraiths were further down now, their light curving at what must have been some kind of bend in the cavern. As soon as they were gone, Diana lifted her hand from Maggie’s mouth, but kept her other firmly holding her in place as she spoke. “That water below you is a distributary of the River Acheron where the souls of the dead flow into eternity. Those are the ones who attempt to cheat Charon of his fare. Something only a fool would do. The Underworld's very own Darwin award, I suppose, but it is not a fate I would wish on anyone. They cannot escape, but many are resentful enough to pull others down in with them out of spite.”

Diana lit a torch and Maggie looked down to see that they were standing on a very narrow ridge in what was an impossibly enormous cavern. Stalactites aimed down at them from the ceiling, like a phalanx of determined guards. Diana pulled Maggie in by the waist again and ran her eyes down the Detective’s body. If they were anywhere else, Maggie would have reacted in surprise, but the Amazon, she saw, had fastened a rope—not that damned lasso, thank god—to Maggie as a safety precaution.

“Where’s Alex?” she said.

Diana released her, and satisfied with her handiwork, sidled past her along the rock face. “With Jaime,” she said.

“Who made _that_ decision?” Maggie said. With the torch lit, she could make out so much more now. The path, she saw, wound away from the river, descending into what looked like a larger cavern.

“Alex had nothing to do with this,” Diana said. “Kara and I made the choice. It was a hard one, but for the best. And Alex would have objected.”

“Kara. Of course.” Maggie bit her bottom lip and nodded, feeling a mix of both anger and appreciation. It was true. Maggie might have accepted going alone. But Alex would have fought, might have even manacled herself to Maggie’s ankle just to stay with her. Diana and Kara had done them both a favor by not including her in the deceit. She smiled inwardly thinking of the fit Alex was likely having about now.

Whenever now was. Wherever they were.

“Did you drug me?” Maggie asked. “Is that how we got here?”

“It is difficult to explain properly.” Diana stepped a few paces down the trail and gestured for Maggie to follow, and as they walked, Maggie noticed a smoothness claiming the cavern’s surfaces. The tunnel they were walking through now had a thoroughly human made look, like some enormous government shelter. “The Underworld for me is a very real place, in the physical sense with its own geography and climate,” Diana continued, “but for mortals…” she turned back and offered her hand, helping Maggie over a slippery patch of rock, “it lies between the physical and the unconscious. To get you here, we had to induce the latter first.”

“Wait,” Maggie said, cocking her head. “So, this _is_ a dream of some kind. My body is still up there?”

Diana shook her head. “That is the difficult to explain part. You are here. Your body is here, but a piece of your soul is anchored in a state between. If you die here, however, your body sheds your corpse into the mortal world. That ensures that your family will bury you properly, while Hades decides what to do with your soul. He’s very fair that way. Even to interlopers.”

“How nice,” Maggie said.

Diana met her frown with a smile, oblivious to the Detective’s discomfort, as if she’d just introduced some superior part of her culture and thought Maggie would be impressed. “And now...” from seemingly nowhere, Diana produced a thick cloak with a fur-lined hood. “We are entering the Underworld proper.”

She unfastened the cable and wrapped the cloak around her. Then, the two women stepped through the passage and into a rush of cold air and snow.


	60. Rifts and Incisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update. Trying to reinvent the Underworld while knowing nothing can really be reinvented is one long, knock-down, hair-pulling tussle with Fred, the Inner Critic. Go read some Edith Hamilton, Fred. To each their own.
> 
> Also, my chemistry talk is for $("#. If you have feedback on the science talk, again, it would be much appreciated.

Alex spat out a curse as the instrument she’d been using dropped from her fingers, impaling the tip of her boot. She leaned over and yanked it out, grimacing at the small, but precise incision it made in the leather. A few centimeters up and it would have punctured her skin, although at this point in her exhaustion, she likely wouldn’t have felt a thing. It was a hairpin scalpel, one used for surgery on species with fragile circulatory networks. Alex had been using it in a desperate attempt to tweak the settings on a filtration device. 

Lois Lane’s black-market antidote was replicable, and more importantly, it worked, tempering the progression of Tierney’s ‘dark matter’ possession on practically every species but human beings. Alex been working for the last forty-eight hours trying separate the compounds; fractional distillation had worked to some extent, but left just enough residue to be toxic to a human recipient. She cleaned off the tip of the scalpel and picked up the device again, poking the end into the near microscopic workings inside the device. 

_You’re spinning your wheels,_ she thought. Whatever Kara had said about needing her up here was flat out wrong. She squinted into the tangle of nodes and gossamer wiring and tried not to think about Maggie. Maggie who was now in some place Alex couldn’t even imagine except in darker versions of fairy tales or the kinds of movies they used to show on Sundays when she was kid, all stop motion animation and eyeballs getting poked out. 

The gasp of the hydraulic door caught her attention and she turned to see Kara, her expression wan and hesitant. No time for that. 

“How is she?” Alex asked. 

Kara's eyes slid to the floor. “Her brain waves are normal, but she’s still not responsive. Nor are the forty-three others.” 

Alex looked away. Commiserating was useless at this point and she didn’t want her sister’s sympathy—likely Kara didn’t have the energy or space to give any. The best way for both of them to get through this was work. She gestured her over. “Want to help me with this? Could use your eyes. I’ve been trying to neutralize the Blasium, but it’s a stubborn little nanobastard. One stray particle and it replicates.” 

“Which means,” Kara said. 

“Which means,” Alex said, putting the instrument down and pressing at her eyelids, “that we could cure Jaime and the others. And then watch as they slowly died of organ failure.” Alex’s tone was glib, but her expression smarted. “I’m trying everything, Kara.” 

Kara walked over and clamped her hands over her sister’s shoulders, massaging them. The agent didn’t resist, allowing herself sink into the momentary comfort. “You were always so good at this,” she whispered. 

“I do have some good news,” Kara said. “Perhaps. J’onn’s working out an early release for Bly Irrah in exchange for help with the compound.” Bly Irrah was a Trommite they’d spent two years tangling with in National City. After arriving on Earth, she’d broken happily with the rigid ethics of her home world and gone to work creating a narcotic that addicted and enslaved the minds of its users—to her, of course. In just her first six months on earth, Irrah boasted of a cult Thomas Coville could envy. 

Alex frowned. “That’d be something if he pulled it off.” 

“We’ll see,” Kara said. “Irrah’s playing games. Claiming that helping us goes against her ‘cultural imperatives.’” 

Alex laughed. “What does that even mean? That woman is Lena Lamonte.” She eyed the small scar on her wrist. It had been made by a chemical burn she’d gotten during Irrah’s arrest—Maggie said it looked like a kangaroo. “Do you think there’s anything at the Fortress that might—" 

“Clark’s already looking into it,” Kara said. She gave Alex’s shoulders a last squeeze and then picked up the device, eyeing the scalpel skeptically. “You’re…exacto knifing this?” 

Alex sat up and shrugged defensively. “It’s all I’ve got left,” she said. “I thought if I could lower the—" 

“You know,” Kara said, holding it up to the light. “Lena should be taking a look at this.” 

Alex answered abruptly. “Winn already has. And Winn has clearance.” 

Kara paused, allowing herself to breathe and Alex knew from her voice that Kara was well aware she was doubting her objectivity. “L-Corp’s got a million alien-based prototypes. Military, medical… I wouldn’t volunteer her name if I didn’t think she offered a chance, Alex.” 

The agent felt Kara’s hand press against her shoulder again and Alex let out a breath. “You’ve really grown to…trust her, haven’t you?”

There was a brief silence and then Alex looked into her sister’s eyes. Kara’s expression, that pleading one she’d given her when they were kids and Kara had wanted to borrow a jacket or eat the last portion of lasagna, relaxed into a grateful smile. 

“Clark thinks I’m crazy. And the thing is, I can’t really blame him.” 

Kara glanced out the window into the corridor, and Alex detected a note in her sister’s voice, a longing and the kind of unsteadiness she hadn’t seen since Kara was new. Alex would accept this thing with Lena, just as Kara had accepted her, but having her only blood relative on the fence about something so important? That had to hurt. She felt a fresh wave of gratitude for her mother, and even her father's awkward, but ultimately welcoming response to Maggie. 

“It’s been one hell of a week.” Alex reached up and placed her hand over Kara’s, squeezing it. Then she picked up the device and passed it to her. “Consider this my blessing,” she said. “But get it back here in a hurry or I’ll be handed to those prigs in the HOJ.” 

### 

A snow swept plain spread out endlessly in front of them, edged by a curtain of sheer grey sky. It was uncanny and disorienting. Maggie remembered a similar effect in a nightclub during a youthful visit to San Francisco. She’d been dancing in the Castro and glanced up to see what on first glimpse was a hazy projection of clouds across the ceiling. Then a single rain drop spattered against her cheek. This was a steppe, with tufts of wiry grass bristling against a relentless assault of wind and grit. Drifts of snow, from where it came she could not see, fluttered over the land, catching themselves on hummocks and towers of sharp stone jutting up from the earth. Dotting that broad space were people, thousands of them in various states of dress, oblivious to the cold that was already chilling Maggie’s bones. 

Diana gestured with her torch for them to move forward, and Maggie did so, cautiously at first, her eyes dragging across the scenes being enacted in front of her. None of these people were interacting; they all seemed to be engaged in solitary monologues or activities. One woman practiced a dance step over and over; another had a sword and was sparring with an invisible opponent, others paced back and forth arguing with…themselves? As she passed, a child whipped around and pointed directly at her. 

“When you’re going through hell, keep going,” he said. 

Maggie started at the familiarity of the words. It was one of Oscar’s trademark phrases. He’d say that whenever she’d scraped a knee or gotten into a tussle at school, and it _had_ helped. So fucking much. Even, she remembered, after he’d kicked her out. She stopped in her tracks and stared back at the boy. She wanted to say something in response. Diana reached back and tugged her forward. 

“Don't,” she said. “Sometimes, they pick up a passing thought, but they cannot hear or see us. You, however, can become easily entrapped. Self-recognition is a potent narcotic.” 

“Where are we exactly?” Maggie said, her teeth chattering. She reached up and tightened the drawstring on her cloak and lowered her chin into its warmth. 

“You’ve heard of the Asphodel fields?” Diana said. 

Maggie squinted back at the boy. He’d turned away already, was raising his fist now and giving a rousing speech to the air. “Never really understood that one,” she said. “Kind of a purgatory for marginally decent soldiers? Most of these people don’t look like military.” 

Diana shook her head. She kneeled and plucked a switch of frozen grass from the tundra, playing with it between her fingers. “Pure propaganda. Warlords in the upper world liked to promote it as such to raise morale in their warriors, but this place has always been more about working through unfinished business.” 

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “So, _everyone_ ends up here then.” 

“If the issue they’re dealing with in life is strong enough,” Diana said. “Maybe there was something they wanted to master, but life or inhibition got in the way. Perhaps they’d been bullied or hurt and needed the space and strength to free themselves of it. Either way they aren’t ready to move on—they don’t want to forget or forgive.” 

“Funny. And I thought forgiveness was the best way out,” Maggie said under her breath. She hadn’t expected Diana to hear her, but Diana turned and smiled knowingly. 

“You know that isn't true, Detective. Life is always more complicated and forgiveness doesn’t always work.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Maggie said and felt her appreciation for the amazon rise. She’d never liked forgiveness as a cure-all, distrusted it the way she did gratitude mantras or the suggestion that people in shitty, oppressive jobs should ‘just pretend they were making 300 dollars an hour’ and force themselves to feel better about their lot. The only people that kind of thing helped were the ones who’d made people feel shitty in the first place. She hadn’t seen this side of Diana before. The woman’s public persona was nature girl, true believer in love and wisdom. But this, now this was refreshing. 

“How long are they here for usually?” 

“Until they work things out,” Diana said, “say their peace, master that skill. Sometimes it takes a week, sometimes a hundred years.” 

“That’s a lot of therapy,” Maggie said. Her eyes narrowed on a human made structure up ahead. It looked like a weigh station or a train platform, but there were no roads or tracks leading up to it. 

Diana nodded and whisked the bottom end of her torch, pushing a thick tuft of grass aside. “Good therapy takes time. You mortals are always hunting down the fastest route through your pain and you medicate and oversimplify everything. I can’t count the number of times I’ve witnessed some drab bit of sociological jargon replacing a nuance best expressed in a line of poetry or a painting. Often work someone spent years on, like they are.” She gestured back at the crowd of lonely ghosts. 

“Well, it’s not like we have a lot of it,” Maggie said. 

“But you used to _try_.” Diana stopped and folded her hands, waiting for Maggie to catch up. She smiled at her sadly. “It was so beautiful when you tried.” 

“Maybe for you it was,” Maggie said. 

She remembered Turpin telling her about a pharmaceutical trial some of his Iraq war buddies had taken part in, all of them men and women who’d witnessed and experienced horrors. If administered quickly enough and in strong enough doses, the drug would ease the impact of trauma on the amygdala, allowing patients to move on more easily after an event. “It helped a few of them,” Turpin had told her, “but half of the them ended up regretting the decision. They’d faced down hell, done terrible things and now they felt just...alienated from it, like they hadn’t done the work to make up for their pasts.” 

Alex had forced Maggie into some work of her own when they were together. If she hadn't, Maggie doubted she would have handled facing down Oscar again in Blue Springs. If this mission succeeded, and if there was a chance things could work out between her and Alex--and Jaime-- she’d need to be wary of that side of herself. They'd all need to keep working. 

The sky had become clearer in their approach to the structure. It was a small train station, or at least had the outer semblance of one, complete with a wooden bench on the platform and what looked to be a ghost town café, its windows broken and a dusty sign jammed in the cracks promising to “refuse service to anyone.” 

“Wow," Maggie chuckled. "Is this the Underworld or Westworld?” 

Diana leapt to the platform and pulled Maggie up. “Bonanza. And if you were dark lord of the Underworld, you’d probably watch just as much TV.” She gestured toward the bench and Maggie gratefully took a seat. 

“So, what do we do now?” she asked. 

“We wait for transport.” Diana looked up, her expression souring. The grey was clearing to reveal a luminous night sky. Stars. Constellations. A small ringed moon hung in the sky to the west. 

Maggie leaned her head back. “Wait. Why am I seeing this?” She could barely finish her question before the shockwave from a thunderous blast knocked both her and Diana to the deck. Maggie lifted her head to the noxious smell of burning fuel, closing her eyes against a sudden flash of heat, the incandescence that now swallowed everything around them. She felt Diana’s weight on her, protecting her from the assault of another blast. They lay there, hunched and waiting as the heat and the light dissipated. Diana pushed herself away and slowly, Maggie opened her eyes, letting them drag first over the edge of the platform, and then the door to a transport, its markings clearly delineating a Zakkarian vessel, as it lowered itself to the newly scorched earth. 

Maggie got to her feet and felt inside her cloak for her gun. Thankfully it was still with her in some incarnation. She turned to Diana. “We are in the Underworld, right?” 

Diana didn’t answer. She looked at the craft in disbelief and wiped a bit of grit from her mouth. “Hades,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “What are you up to now?”


	61. Labs and Loopholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a larger update and more will be coming in at faster intervals. Have the last act written, but need to edit and have a massive blindspot for typos. Thanks for sticking with this.

_Please. Come alone._

A statement, not a question. And an odd one, seeing that Kara had entrusted the device to Lena in the first place. Odd, that Lena hadn’t even mentioned Kara; in fact, her tone had been strained enough to imply that Alex shouldn’t broach their meeting to _anyone_. It was also strange that rather than the offices L-Corp maintained in Metropolis’s McNaughton building, just blocks from the HOJ, that Lena should summon her here: A warehouse ten miles outside of the city, bordered by a car graveyard and broad tracts of fenced-in overgrowth. 

Alex, however, was feeling more frustrated than mystified by Lena’s behavior. It had taken a full thirty minutes to get here, and like the borrowed HOJ jeep, she was running on fumes. Since that morning, Jaime’s body temperature had risen and the tracks on her arms had darkened, creating a grey aura in the skin around them, altering its texture to something rough and not quite human. 

But Lena’s curtly whispered message had been enough. “I’ve got an answer. I’ll text you the address.” 

Alex pulled up to a guardhouse outside a large chain-link fence and plucked out her ID. The inside of the booth was vacant and the years of humidity had been eating away at the wood. A red beam flickered out from the darkness of the booth and flickered across her front windshield. The place was heavily, albeit unobtrusively policed, likely by tech far more dangerous than any human. 

The fence slid open and she drove across the empty lot, caked by years of matted leaves, toward a nondescript building that appeared to have no entrance, save a pencil thin arc creasing the front of its triangular extension. 

As she got out of the car, two security drones swooped low, and Alex felt the tickle of static, the crackle of electricity as she was scanned. She exhaled impatiently and stepped back, holding her hands up and allowing the things to circle her. Then seemingly satisfied with their investigation, they lifted skyward and disappeared over the rooftop. The door gasped open to reveal Lena, waiting for her, her face strangely grim despite the offering of hope. Without so much as a greeting, she nodded for Alex to come inside. 

“It’s an older facility. No longer 'officially' in use,” Lena said. “My brother’s.” 

“Older,” Alex said, feeling herself relax slightly in the warm air, in the antiseptic reassurance of the laboratory, a clear contrast to the rust and muck outside. The place looked even more high tech than the bridge of the Legion’s spaceship. As if to confirm that, another drone, whirred up to her, two warm cups of coffee perched inside it. Alex took one, managing a smile, but Lena’s arms, she noted were folded tightly and her forearms were dotted with goosebumps as if she’d just been in a deep freeze. 

Alex took the other cup and handed it to her. “So, I’ve got Jaime, all of the kids back there, they—” 

Lena cut her off. “I’ve figured out how to reconstruct the compound minus the Blasium, but I need your help to complete the replication process.” 

“That’s--that would be. Of course. Where do we start?” 

“We can substitute Tundari extract.” 

“Tundari..." Alex whispered. "How did you manage to break it down without--" 

“I’ll answer all of your questions in the lab,” Lena said. She lowered her eyes. “But I need a promise from you first.” 

“I thought this _was_ the lab,” Alex said. 

Lena lifted her head and looked into her eyes, her face was blanched by the harsh winter sunlight from the skylight above. Her tone was hushed, but her voice was thick with guilt. 

“You’re not going to like what I’m about to show you, Alex. Just promise me you won’t tell Kara. Not until I’ve had the chance to tell her myself.” 

“You want me to lie to her,” Alex said, but Jaime’s face in that hospital bed reared up at her, and she pushed down her anger at the demand. 

“No,” Lena said. “I’m asking for a temporary omission of the truth.” 

“And you’re holding people’s lives at stake for it?” 

“No,” Lena said. “I am going to show you anyway. I’m just asking for time. She needs to hear it from me.” 

There was something in Lena’s eyes, not defiance or equivocation, but a sense of already palpable loss and defeat. 

Alex felt the words slip out of her, “I promise. But if it doesn’t work, that promise is dissolved. You understand?” 

“I understand,” Lena said. She dropped Alex’s arms and turned toward the elevator. “Let’s go.” 

### 

The wind from the lowering craft still battering at them, Maggie struggled to her feet and pulled the stunned Diana from the platform as the ramp slid to the surface. Maggie pulled her gun in what now felt like an absurd, but all too necessary gesture. If it was here, as Diana said _she_ was, then it had to work. But after passing through the fields, she couldn’t help but wonder if this, too, was some kind of psychological construct: her mind replaying a mishmash of scenarios she’d experienced on the force. 

Diana’s continued bafflement told her otherwise. She signaled to the Amazon, ducking under the lowering ramp to cover the opposite side as Diana drew her sword, standing ready as both craft and ramp found purchase. 

A loud crack sounded above them as if the sky was rending itself apart, and the air snagged with electricity. For a brief, incautious second, the two women lifted their eyes from the craft and saw the starlit backdrop fold into itself, replaced by the familiar wall of grey. 

“Inconceivable,” Diana said. “An Einstein-Rosen bridge. I’ve seen such technology used on Justice League missions, but down here.” 

Maggie coughed, pushing down a crack about a train station in the middle of bumfuck Hell and pointing her gun as a pair of boots lowered themselves to the ramp. Diana stumbled back slightly, sword drawn and head cocked curiously at the interloper. It was a Zakkarian smuggler with the telltale ridges on his earlobes and wearing a torn stolen uniform of an earth security guard—those guys thought that was a look for some reason. He came tromping down the ramp, a piece of Rimborian chewbark slotted between his teeth as he grumbled orders at two lackeys who were hoisting what looked to be a very heavy chest behind him. 

Maggie sneered in recognition, almost lowering her gun. “For fuck’s sake.” 

Diana gave her a questioning look as the alien turned and froze, lifting his hands in a swift, jerky motion. The two behind him were forced to stop, and stood teetering with their payload, nearly dropping it over the side of the ramp. 

“Sawyer!” the alien said, lip curling into a snarl. “By the knobs on Grife’s ass! I should have known this was a set up.” 

Maggie met him with a half-smile, depressing the beaver tail on her 45. “Thought you were retiring, Zeke. What happened to that condo in Phuket?” 

Zeke turned back and glared at one of his men, their arms trembling as they struggled to keep the safe aloft. “So did I,” he said. “Which one of you was it?” 

“Later, cap,” the henchman said, his voice strained. 

Zeke turned to Maggie. “Don’t ask me. I ain’t the one with the gun.” 

Maggie nodded, gesturing for Zeke to complete his descent down the ramp. The other two groaned in relief and scurried down to the surface. As they lowered the safe to the ground, Maggie glared at them. “Keep your hands flat on that box,” she said. 

“You know them?” Diana said. She kept her eyes on the other men as Maggie patted down Zeke and removed a tiny, pinprick blaster from his boot. Then she pushed the smuggler to his knees. 

“Unfortunately,” Zeke answered for her, and Maggie noted with some amusement that Diana had already wrapped the Lasso around his ankle to cut off any escape attempts, although, where he’d escape to was anybody’s guess. “Ruined my Giltron business, the one that was going to set me up for life. Stuck her nose in the Ketalan heist.” His voice faltered. “But she did…rescue my kid from a Hellgrammite. Still grateful for that, Sawyer, but Grife’s ass. Your damned timing.” 

“Just doing my job,” Maggie said. 

“ _Here_?” Zeke said. “You have to do that here?” Then he paused and squinted up at her. “Did you die or something?” 

“I hope not,” Maggie said, more to Diana. 

Diana tightened the lasso and Zeke yelped in pain. Maggie almost felt sorry for him. That rope was no fun. 

Maggie walked back over to the vault and pushed Zeke’s henchmen to the ground, cuffing their wrists together 

“Anyone else in there?” she asked, nodding to the ship. The men shook their heads, but Zeke nodded. “Eleven. They’re in the cargo hold, unarmed.” 

“Eleven,” Maggie repeated 

“They’re—” Zeke coughed, “they’re in transit.” 

Maggie narrowed her eyes. Transit. The euphemism for being trafficked. This was another Zakkarian coyote operation. In the Underworld. “What’s in that?” Maggie asked, gesturing to the vault. She didn’t recognize the metal, but it looked extremely dense. No light shined off its surface and there was a byzantine series of gears and levers at the top, like it required a puzzle master to open it up. 

Zeke struggled, doubling over slightly. “Empryean glass,” he choked out. 

“Whoa,” Maggie said. She gave him a begrudging smile. “You’ve hit the big time, Zeke.” 

Diana looked at her uncomprehending. "Empryean..." 

“Empryean glass,” Maggie said, more for Zeke’s benefit than Diana’s, “apparently, one of the rarest materials in the galaxy.” 

Maggie’s alien contacts had never discussed it as anything more than an abstract expression of approval. The best things had always been referred to as ‘Empryean’ or ‘like ‘pyrean glass.’ When she’d finally asked, she was told the substance likely didn’t exist. 

“It is like that dude,” Brian the alien had told her. “Leper Khaaan.” And Maggie had imagined Ricardo Montalban ministering to doomed colonists until Brian enlightened her. 

“You know. Tiny. Green guy. Has a big pot of money.” 

Maggie shrugged. “It can be broken down and reconstructed into anything--lapis, gold, a living, breathing human being.” 

Diana paled slightly and Maggie hesitated. Had she said something off? 

“And for what purpose have you brought it here?” Diana said. 

Zeke opened his mouth to answer, but Maggie held up her hand to stop him. The lasso was effective, but she wanted to think this through herself. 

“You know, I wondered about your portal tech," Maggie said. "Up until a year ago, you guys were known as being good for short sprints, escapes. You didn’t have the range to send a perp as far as Spokane, much less halfway across the galaxy. That’d be like sending someone to the moon on a pogo stick. But let me guess, this being an in between kind of place allows you to bypass that little hiccup. And this,” she nodded at the box, “is your payment in turn.” 

Diana tightened the lasso and Zeke spat out a very reluctant “yes.” 

“You could have just used the lasso,” Diana said. 

“Could have,” Maggie said, “but then I’d be one of those assholes at the dinner table, ‘splaining from a Wikipedia page on my smartphone.” She smiled at her, trying to ease Diana's discomfort. “Keep an eye on them?” 

Diana nodded and Maggie ascended the ramp, her gun drawn in front of her. She’d seen one of these crafts before during a raid outside of National City but had never actually been aboard. She remembered Alex’s near miss on the Hoshin frigate and shuddered. What if this thing jumped? 

Alex had offered to take her along on an off-world mission if it came to it, but in truth, Maggie wasn’t sure how she’d handle space. All NCSPD officers had been dragged out to National City Aerospace and given rudimentary training in zero-G and underwater combat, but she’d been a carsick kid, frustrated during long drives when her mother put on a crackling Bible station or some godawful country music with a twang that stretched for miles. The void seemed far less like freedom than a place where her old baggage could catch her once more in its orbit. 

As Zeke had told her, they were in the back, eleven crumpled forms bound and linked together by the low-lit glow of an energy field. Not Zakkarians or Khunds, but Trommites. Not passengers, but prisoners. 

Another piece slipped into place. 

The Trommites looked half-starved and their lips cracked and dry. One of them had soiled himself and sat, knees bunched, in the corner of the hold. As they raised their heads to see her, their faces broke out in pure joy and relief. 

“Earthian?” gasped a girl not more than 15 in earth years. She blinked back tears that that might have formed if she’d had enough to drink, but what came from her eyes was dark and metallic, a sign, Alex had explained once, of Trommite dehydration. 

“Now I’m mad,” Maggie said under her breath. 

A younger man turned to his half-conscious companion and shook his arm. We’ve made it, Tov! We’re here!” 

“Just, hold on a second,” she said, holstering her gun and turning back to look at the control panels on the wall. 

“It’s the flat orb to your left,” said a woman. “You run your hand over it. But it has to recognize your heat signature. 

Maggie looked back at her and glared. 

“Or,” the woman shrugged, “you could just smash it.” 

Maggie bit her lip and took a step back. “Cover your ears,” she said, and raised her gun to fire at the thing. The feedback in that small space sent her reeling backward, but it worked, the field disappeared, allowing the Trommites freedom to lunge forward and catch Maggie’s fall. 

A collective gasp of relief escaped from the captives. But these people, Maggie realized, had no idea where they were. And she needed to keep it that way for a while.


	62. Gods and Wannabes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more update to finish up a lovely Golden Week. I'm going to try to update every three days over the next few weeks.  
> Plotty stuff ahead. And hints of major Supercorp angst. They'll be okay. Promise.

“Hold on,” Maggie said. She pointed at one of the hardier looking passengers, a boy who sat crouched protectively next to an old man in the hold. “Know where the food and water is?" 

The Trommite boy nodded, and patting the elderly man on the shoulder, he rose and hurried toward a flickering corridor light to the galley. A few of the younger passengers followed after him to help, and Maggie felt her own stomach hollowing. Who knew you still had to eat down here? 

Trommites were decent people, Maggie thought. The kind who always took care of their elders, unlike many people on Earth. They would never abandon their children either. Most of them worked hard to fit in and struggled with their new home's realities, realities that often came into conflict with Trom's rigid codes of ethics: The tons of plastic that went into the sea instead of being converted into water or a healthy compost, the ridiculous dependence on fossil fuels, despite all warnings to do otherwise. Bette Decker, a social worker in Maggie's precinct, said that her Trommite clients were her biggest challenge. Many of them sank into depression after their first six months, and sometimes the counseling just made things worse. 

Remembering this, Maggie felt another wave of disgust. These people had faced decimation on their home planet, and after being promised safe passage to Earth, from the looks of it, were about to be shuttled back right into the kind of slavery Roxas had meant for them back home. Maybe it would be better for them up there, but she doubted it. Once people thought they could control you, their empathy fizzled out faster than a can of Pabst. 

She turned to the elderly man, squatting down until they were eye level. “Do you know where you are?” 

He nodded and in a cracked, barely audible whisper said, “Colorado?" Then he closed his eyes and smiling, took a deep breath of the rank air. “I can smell them. The trees. They said they'd be just like the Poronomiums on Trom.” 

"Yeah." Maggie forced her own smile and didn't say more. A tremor rocked the ship and she placed her hand on the man's shoulder, steadying him. 

“Stay here,” she said. 

She bolted back down the ramp. Zeke and his companions were still securely bound, but Zeke had a look on his face, the same one she’d seen on Zakkarians whenever they thought they were outsmarting the cops. Diana had moved away from the captives and was standing with one hand over her brow, scanning the horizon. 

"It's Hades' guard," Diana said. "They're not expecting us. Please allow me do the talking." 

“Cavalry’s here,” Zeke said in a slow, singsong voice. He winked at Maggie as she drew her gun, her eyes narrowing on a rapidly approaching phalanx of soldiers. They looked right out of some silent epic and she chuckled involuntarily, remembering another black and white noir Kara had foisted on her and Alex one evening. It was about a washed-up silent movie queen with a god complex. An apt metaphor for the pantheon these days. 

"Gloria Swanson," Kara had gushed. "She was epic." 

"She sure thinks she is," Maggie said. In all honesty, Maggie had liked that film, at least enough to remember its famous last line. She raised her gun and smiled at Diana. “Ready for your close up?” 

"More than ready," Diana said. She held up her shield as Maggie moved behind for cover. Then the horsemen readied their bows and aimed. 

## 

The trip in the elevator must have taken them at least two minutes, two interminable minutes in which Lena didn’t even offer up a reassuring smile. She looked, in fact, like she was going to vomit, and Alex wondered briefly if she’d be cleaning up sick before the doors opened. By the time they exited and passed through a blinding corridor, Alex understood why. 

Lena cautiously fell behind as the agent entered the lab. As she passed her, Alex noted her expression, the fear burning in the CEO’s eyes. Her own were quickly captured by the glittering shelves of ice, moving and shifting just as her eyes moved and shifted along their contours, taking in the prismatic flares of color against the whiteness, the fissures in the smooth polar surfaces, cracking and reshaping themselves in response to knowledge that they had company. Kara had once explained to her that the walls of the Fortress of Solitude were, in effect, _breathing_ , sending out feelers and recalibrating themselves to every particle of new information. But this was _not_ the Fortress of Solitude. This was an abandoned L-Corp laboratory that Lena Luthor had been keeping secret as some kind of mad scientist wild card. Rage torqued up inside her and she blinked, struggling to speak, to say the name as her eyes lit upon an opaque cylinder, its front embellished with a familiar yet menacing sigil. 

"Zod,” Alex said shakily and took a step back from the enormity of both spectacle and revelation. “My god, Lena, not even the DEO has access to—” A cloud of cold air curled from her lips and Lena took a step forward, her hands reaching out to calm her. 

Alex stepped back again, nearly backing into a Kandorian memory orb. "This is theft. Weapons stockpiling. Possible conspiracy to commit bioterrorism. Lena, I can't even count how many statutes you've--" 

"Alex, listen!" 

Alex bit her lip, hard enough to hurt. She ran a hand through her hair and waited for Lena to speak.What would she tell Kara? What _could_ she tell her? 

“During Superman’s battle with Zod,” Lena said, her voice steady, “Lex took advantage of the chaos to access the craft and abscond with some of the artifacts. Of course, once he was safely incarcerated, they were all turned back over to the proper authorities. Most of them," she gave Alex a pointed look, "to the military, in fact. Not necessarily better hands." 

Alex ignored the barb. "Then how--" 

"He took just enough to replicate the technology, albeit imperfectly. But Lex wasn't ever able to do it. I was, and I made damned sure that mother never learned of it. As far as Lex is concerned, all of the technology was returned. That codex is the only authentic artifact from the craft. That was necessary for my work to proceed here.” 

“Why?” Alex’s nostrils flared and she felt her hand fisting in the hem of her shirt. "Kara trusted you, Lena. She trusts you still. You...Mon-El, every damned one of you has to betray her." 

Lena looked at her squarely, almost defiantly, but her voice was shaking with emotion. “Betray her?" She leaned her head back and laughed. "That device that dispersed the lead into the atmosphere and stopped the Daxamite invasion,” Lena said, gesturing around the lab. "I came up with that here. The vaccination L-Corp later developed against future mutations of the Medusa virus? Here again.” She folded her hands in front of her and inhaled deeply, a coolness returning to her voice. “I was wrong, Alex. You don’t need to remind me of that. But I have never used it to harm others or for profit. Only to help. And consequences be damned, that is all I want to do now.” 

Lena's eyes were wet now, even as her expression settled into some semblance of composure, and Alex felt her own eyes stinging. There was a clarity of purpose in Lena's eyes, in the set of her jaw, but there was also a loneliness with which Alex was well-acquainted. She remembered those feelings of inadequacy, of being shunted aside by Eliza for Kara, and that illusion that if she did something big enough, if she gave enough, people would finally see her worth. 

But even Alex had had J'onn, and later Kara, and finally, Maggie who'd made her see enough in herself that she could no longer see the gift her lover had given her. Until Kara, Lena had likely had only lies and manipulation and whatever ugly affinity she had shared with Lex. And still, here she was, giving, sacrificing her future likely. That had to be worth another chance, and if not, then Jaime and those children certainly were. 

“Then,” Alex said, “it’s time we got to work.”


	63. Cat Fancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience on this update, and as always, for sticking with it. A little silliness is included in the darkness with this chapter.

Bows drawn and sarrisae poised, Hades’ guardsmen formed a broad circle around both captives and craft. They looked, Maggie thought, like she’d imagined them. Helmets. Shields. Sandals. But with Diana’s talk of capturing stray thoughts, she wondered if this wasn’t merely a failure of her imagination; it was a funny thing to consider once you got used to superheroes and aliens. A guard nudged her in the back, the tip of his spear pressing into her shoulder blade, and she stood straight, raising her arms slowly to the sky. Diana didn’t move, but remained defiant as Hades, face obscured by a helmet, dropped from his chariot and strode toward them. 

“What is this?” he said, sounding like a parent happening upon a teenager's kegger. He tilted his head at Diana, bejeweled fingers drumming noisily on his belt. “This area requires clearance, even for you, Themysciran.” His voice was low and had a slightly metallic resonance. 

Zeke waved his hands at the god, and still on his knees, began frantically inching toward him. “It wasn’t me!” he said. “It was a set up. _She_ did it!” He pointed at Maggie. “She’s a hellion, this one. A witch.” 

“I don’t believe in witches,” Hades said. 

Diana rolled her eyes. “The detective and I are here for an entirely different purpose, Hades. An urgent one.” 

Hades’ lips curled in amusement. “Another charity case then. You haven’t done _that_ in a very long time.” 

Maggie smiled and nodded over at the Zakkarian craft. “Looks like you’ve been running a charity on your own.” 

The god turned his gaze on her and Maggie felt herself freeze. On the surface, he too, was what she had imagined, or what had been imagined for her on frescoes and vases, that horrifying Bernini sculpture she’d seen in Rome. In the art world, at least, Hades' had kept a low profile. But now, she sensed a density and complexity to his aura, as if that cloak and that simulacrum of a body contained worlds. 

“Detective Margaret Sawyer,” Diana said, as if saying her full name would add heft to their petition. “She has come at the risk of life and home to request an audience with you.” 

“It's Margarita. But call me Maggie.” 

She spotted the flash of a grin in the shadows beneath the god's helmet. “Diana,” he sighed. “I am always happy to hear a petition, but…” He cast a glance around at his men, “she’ll have to go through the right channels.” 

Diana’s mouth dropped. She took a step forward, her hands outstretched. “Hades, the matter is urgent. It is not only to do with her, but millions of—” 

A loud creak caused everyone to turn towards the craft and Maggie felt her jaw set. "Stay on the damned ship," she whispered. 

But the throng of newly freed Trommites, their arms loaded with supplies, were making their way single file down the ramp. Their expressions were open, happy even, despite their ordeal, until they reached just far enough beneath the rim of the ship to see the oppressive grey expanse overhead. 

“This is…Colorado?” It was the old man she’d spoken earlier. He was rubbing at his eyes as if he doubted his own mind. A young woman with an infant in one arm turned to comfort him. She was breastfeeding the child, Maggie saw, and she nearly gasped when she remembered. 

The myth. 

You weren’t supposed to eat down here. At least not what was offered. You partook and you were trapped. And clearly these refugees, despite their recent go at the ship’s supplies, would be hard pressed to turn down an offer of sustenance. Maggie ignored the jab from the spear in her back and took a step towards the woman. 

“Hey,” she said. “Hey, um..." 

The hope was already draining from the woman’s face. “You…you lied to us?” 

"No," Maggie said, "No, I need to tell you something." 

But before she could finish, the woman saw Zeke, tied up and kneeling, and her expression went from doubt to fury. “You! You sold him out." 

“That’s right,” Zeke said. He looked up plaintively at Hades. “See?” 

“Listen!” Maggie said. She put her hands on the woman’s shoulders. “Listen to me. You can’t eat here.” She glanced around at everyone. “No one can. Your own supplies only! Don't accept anything. Don't. You won't die from it. You'll feel it, but..." 

You---” 

And that’s when the woman lifted her hand and slapped Maggie hard across the face. Later, Maggie wasn’t sure if she registered that blow or the one to the back of her head. She only remembered falling backward and seeing a dark curtain close across that uniform grey expanse. # 

### 

Twelve hours. That’s how long it took for Alex and Lena to synthesize the compound, another eleven to test it. By the time they’d reached zero-hour, time was up. 

Gone. 

Agent Kampfer had been calling in reports throughout the day as Jaime’s situation worsened. She’d become increasingly volatile as her fever had risen, had started screaming, violently pounding her fists against the railings of her bed until she’d had to be restrained. Occasionally, the child’s body would go slack, her head falling back against the pillow, long enough for her to whisper a few words in her delirium. 

Now, Jaime, Griff, the rest of kids were down, fevers spiking, those veins of dark energy crawling over their frail bodies like ivy. Alex and Lena had returned to the med bay to find Jaime’s eyes had turned black, a darkness Alex had never witnessed even in the farthest reaches of space. The darkness was rich and iridescent, whorls of color clouding the shadow like distant galaxies. 

“Sedating them is useless,” Kampfer told Alex as she and Lena hurriedly readied the serum. “Director Danvers, I don’t know how long we can keep them here. We’re working on a plan right now to remove them to the Stage 4 facility.” 

“Nope,” Alex said. “Not going to happen.” She brushed past Kampfer and nodded to Lena as she attached the end of the cannula to the pouch and took the child’s wrist. The girl had her eyes squeezed shut and she was murmuring. 

_“Why is it so dark? Mom? Why? It’s so dark.”_

Alex saw her own hand trembling. She let out a shuddering breath as she struggled to find the girl’s vein. Lena came around to the other side of the bed, practically shooing away the HOJ medic who was standing there. 

“You okay?” Lena asked. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Alex said. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. “We’ve got to do this now.” 

Alex tightened the blood pressure valve and ran her thumb Jaime’s forearm, found nothing. She shot a glare at Kampfer. “It’s too goddamned cold in here,” she said. “How am I supposed to find—” 

She reached her other hand up to her face and choked back a sob. Lena placed her hands on the agent’s shoulders, tugging her reluctantly away from the bed. Then, nodding to Kampfer, who gently took the cannula from her hand, she turned Alex around to face her. 

“He’ll do it. That’s all there’s left to do. One last step,” Lena said, her voice a whisper. 

“No,” Alex said. She blinked again, exhausted and shook her head. “I have to be the one…I have to be there for…” 

Lena strengthened her grip on Alex’s wrist and reached up to brush the agent’s cheek. 

“I have to…” Alex said again, the struggle draining from her voice as Lena pulled her in, let Alex collapse into her. 

“One last step,” Lena said, stroking her back. “Alex, we’ve got this. Just…” She shifted, and reaching up again, gently turned Alex’s face toward the bed, “watch.” 

The drip attached, Jaime still lay limply on the bed. If the seizures started up again, it was likely that the serum hadn’t worked. But the child stayed peaceful, or what could at best be called inert, and Alex felt a sob of relief leave her as slowly, Jaime’s breathing eased into the gentle cadence of sleep. 

Lena held onto Alex for what seemed like hours, listening to the sound of the girl’s breathing, watching as the dark patterns receded like waves across the girl's skin." 

“You see, Alex,” Lena said. “You did it.” 

“We did,” Alex said, allowing herself to smile. Her happiness deserted her when she thought about Maggie. The serum wasn't a cure, but it worked. What if Maggie hadn't needed to go there at all? 

Then, in a move so achingly familiar, Jaime's brows knitted in slumber and she tilted her head into the sweat-dampened pillow. 

_So much like her_ , Alex thought. _So much like--_

“Maggie.” Jaime’s voice echoed the thought, and Alex saw the child's eyes were open now. The darkness was gone, but there was an awareness, both seeing and not seeing. 

"Hey, kiddo," Alex said. 

“Maggie?” Jaime whispered. “Maggie, come back. It’s cold down there. And so very, very dark.” 

### 

Maggie awoke to a clamor of voices, the sound of keyboards rattling and paper shuffling, and the rank, acidic odor of burnt coffee. She sat up, neck cramping from the worn, utilitarian bench she'd been lying on and ran her hands over her face. She was back at headquarters. Hell of a dream. 

She disabused herself of that thought the second she opened her eyes. In front of her were two Roman soldiers looking like they’d walked right off the set of Ben Hur, except one of them was toting his own severed arm in a quiver slung over his shoulder. Next to them, two Russian naval officers, chest wounds blooming like corsages over pressed uniforms, toasted each other with Dixie cups filled to their brims with cheap vodka. They were standing in line, almost up to the counter for which, from the looks of it, they’d been waiting a very long time. 

Diana was nowhere to be seen. Maggie opened her hand and discovered a crumpled ticket in her palm. On it was a number--10,345. 

“Aren’t you the lucky one.” 

It was a man with a Scots accent and a desert combat uniform, from the Iraq war, Maggie guessed. He scooted next to her on the bench, wringing his hands and shaking his right leg with irritating rapidity. 

“Lucky?” Maggie said. 

He nodded up at the counter and then back at the line. As Maggie’s eyes followed the line, she saw that it didn’t have an end. Hundreds upon hundreds, likely thousands of men and women were swaying back and forth on their feet, chewing gum, fiddling with the lint from their pockets. A woman in full-on Revolutionary War drag was doing a crossword puzzle and looking rather pleased with herself. Meanwhile, most of the counter windows they were waiting for had closed signs slapped in front of them: Out to lunch, Personal Day, Administrative Inventory. 

The man smiled at her sadly and showed her his own ticket: 230,022. 

“What is this place?” Maggie said, feeling already that it was a useless question. She needed to find Diana, to get the water from the Lethe and find out where Hades had taken the Trommites. Zeke, bless him, had a big mouth. There was no way the god wasn’t playing afoul with those Zakkarian coyotes and she was determined to find out. 

“Visa office, for the Elysian fields,” the man said. 

“The what?” 

“You know, the Elysian fields. Like Valhalla. Who’d have thought it would take longer than getting our VA benefits, eh?” 

“Wow,” Maggie said. For all of Diana’s grand talk about mortals creating new things from their pain, the gods sure enjoyed plagiarizing their least interesting creations. 

“I’m Rob,” he said, extending his hand. “Naturalized citizen of the US, and newly minted inhabitant of the Underworld. He eyed the badge on her belt. “You’re a cop, then?” 

“Detective Maggie Sawyer.” She hook his hand, distracted. She was looking for the exit, only there didn’t seem to be one, just that same grey backdrop she’d seen in the fields, blocked off and crisscrossed by cubicle walls and dull modular furniture. 

“You must have done something really special,” he continued. “Cops aren’t usually honored here. Not with an audience with Hades.” 

“Is that what everyone is waiting for?” she asked, feeling her stomach sink. 

“Oh yes,” the man said. “Hades likes to vet everyone personally, although, if you ask me he could speed up the process. Always has to be hands on. I mean, isn’t the point of this bureaucracy so he can pass the buck?” 

Maggie closed her eyes and sank her face into her hands. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck/_ All that bluster about proper channels. This trip had been a very, very bad idea. 

“Oh, hey now,” Rob said, noting her agitation. “You’re in good shape with that number, lass. And there are some magazines over there. For when you get bored.” He pointed to spinning metal rack at the end of the bench, filled with crumpled periodicals. “Got to warn you though, you get through ‘em fast, especially bloody _Cat Fancy_. Too many ads. I make ‘em last by reading the fine print first. Just a couple hundred thou’ to go, then I’ll have it all, right? Cold beer. Club Med.” 

There was the sound of raised voices and a commotion. Maggie glanced up and felt her body go limp with relief. Diana was shoving her way toward her through the crowd, nonchalantly tossing aside a Hussar who’d blocked her path. 

Her eyes fell on Maggie and the amazon’s broad shoulders slumped in relief. “I am so sorry. Hades was putting on a little show of ‘impartiality’ for his guards. Are you hurt?” 

“Would it matter?” Maggie asked. She stood up and stepped into the Amazon’s friendly embrace, coughing as Diana slapped her a little too enthusiastically on the back . 

Diana thought about it and shook her head, “Not down here. Shall we then?” 

Maggie turned back and saw that Rob was watching the scene and looking rather bereft. She leaned down and pressed her ticket into his hand as he blinked and sputtered in gratitude. “Take it easy on the _Cat Fancy_ ,” she said, “you’ve still got a long wait.”


	64. Vote of Confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entering the markapalooza stage of the semester. Going for more frequent, one scene updates as they're more doable at present.

For the rest of the night, Alex slept soundly. No dreams. No alarms or disturbances. It was that pull into unconsciousness that took you no matter what was happening, when you were exhausted to the point of no resistance. 

She awoke in a makeshift quarters at the facility, remembering a half-slurred argument with Lena about dragging a cot into Jaime’s room. Kara had been there by then and both of them insisted that Alex take the adjacent room to Lena’s suite, but Alex had refused. 

Instead, she woke up here, pleasantly noting the softness of the bedding stitched with the monogram of the Metropolis Arms, and the scent of lavender softening the antiseptic pall of the med bay. Kara must have brought it back from the Lena's room and tucked her in after she was out. Neither a Super nor a Luthor was above nicking hotel amenities. 

She went to the sink and washed her face with the med bay’s utilitarian soap. It felt good to clean off what she could of the past few days of stress and sleeplessness. Most of it her and Lena bickering in the cold alien atmosphere of the laboratory. The Fortress was majestic, if a bit over the top, but Lena’s lab felt forbidding, like she was playing around in a tomb filled with secrets and curses. Having Zod’s sigil in her sightline as she worked hadn’t helped either, but Alex was familiar with the tech, had piloted a Kryptonian pod into orbit to save her sister during the Myriad incident, and she was the only one Lena could work with considering the options. Clark would have shut her down immediately, treating the lab like a nuke about to go off, while Kara’s newfound intimacy with Lena would have clashed with the former’s often troubling authoritarian tendencies. She wondered if Lena had told Kara yet, then splashed her face in the cold water again to shake off the thought. 

That wasn’t her problem. Not now. 

She wiped her face dry on her sleeve and slipping her feet into a pair of HOJ issue slippers, left her quarters and proceeded to Jaime’s room. It was early evening, going on 5pm. Hopefully Jaime was awake and lucid. 

When she got there, she paused outside of the room, surprised to see Superman at the girl’s bedside. He was laughing and gesturing, clearly keeping her rapt with a story of one of his adventures. Jaime had stayed with the Kents during her brief reprieve from the facility, and the girl was clearly observant. But from the look on her face, Superman and Clark Kent were not the same person. 

Alex felt her heart warm a little upon seeing them together. For all their complicated history after he left Kara with their family, it was nice to see Clark stepping up with Jaime, even if she wasn’t sure if she and Maggie would share a life together. He was family, and his being here reassured her that Jaime was now, too. 

He looked up at Alex through the glass and waved and she let herself inside. 

“My suit is clearly not as cool as his,” Alex said, tugging at her robe. 

Jaime turned and smiled, giving Alex a thumbs-up. She looked wonderful, Alex thought. Like the girl she had seen in the museum. 

“Superman was telling me about Mxy,” she said, her voice bright and alert. “I didn’t know magic was a thing.” 

“Oh yeah…that,” Alex said. “It is. All kinds of things we didn’t think were things are.” 

Jaime’s lip quirked in a smile. “You’re still out of it, aren’t you?” 

“Kinda yeah. How are _you_ feeling?” 

“Pretty good,” Jaime said. 

Alex walked up to the bed and brushed a hand through the girl’s hair. She saw the golden orb in her hand and smiled up at Clark. “It’s beautiful. That from you?” 

Clark shook his head. “From Maggie.” 

“From her cop friend,” Jaime corrected. “The guy who swears a lot. He got it from a guy in Opal City, and it’s alien. Or…” she looked at Superman, “ _we’re_ pretty sure it’s alien.” 

She passed it to Superman who, from his fixed gaze, was likely scanning it with his X-Ray vision. “It’s of a very distant and far off constellation. Plus, it’s the um, view from another side of the universe. Jaime’s been telling me all about it,” he smiled. “She knows more about it than I do.” 

If Clark was concerned, he didn’t show it, but Jaime seemed to flinch a little at the praise. 

“Well,” he placed the orb back down on Jaime’s blanket and leaned over to give Alex a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got a few more kids to visit, so I’ll leave you two to it.” 

Alex pressed his wrist. “Thanks, Kal,” she said. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Jaime lifted her hands to her cheeks and blew out a sigh. “Wow. Wow. I can’t wait to tell Maggie.” 

“You know,” Alex said, taking a seat next to the bed. “Maggie might have some stories of her own to tell you. She worked with him when she was living here. Quite often.” 

“Really? She never told me that.” 

“Yep,” Alex said. "She doesn't like to brag." 

Jaime sat up. “He was happy that I knew a little Kryptonese.” 

“You do?” Alex said, not quite masking her genuine surprise. 

“Yeah,” Jaime said. “I mean, just a little. There’s a few poems, the ones that are stored at the Library of Congress that I memorized from an earlier Skyhook lesson. He said my…” and Jaime looked up at Alex, “pronunciation was perfect.” 

It didn’t come out as a boast or the childlike need to gain adult approval. The girl sounded distant and troubled. “I mean,” she said, “Kryptonese is supposed to be hard.” 

Alex reached over and took her hand. “Maybe you’re just good at languages.” 

“I’m good at baseball,” Jaime said, her smile flattening. 

“Hey,” Alex said, already feeling like a heel for brushing off her concern. If Maggie were here, she’d know how to be straight with Jaime, straight and gentle, without hurting her feelings. And here she was, terrible at this already. “You’re good at a lot of things. You just don’t know it yet.” 

Alex cringed inside as the words left her, but before she could stammer out a correction, Jaime spoke. 

“Do you know how I _know_ I’m good at baseball?” Jaime said. 

“How?” Alex bit her lip and stopped herself. _Just don't_ she thought. 

“Because I was bad at it before. And I practiced. I mean, when I missed a ball or struck out, _especially_ on those days. I’d go out to the park at night, practicing my swing, throwing. I even asked coach Anderson to help me after school when the other kids weren't around. I mean, there was this girl, Trina Yates, she used to tease me and that ticked me off. So, I practiced.” She looked at Alex. “I could feel myself getting better at it, you know?” 

Alex nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do.” 

“I never felt that I was as smart as some of the kids in my school. Never liked math, didn’t pay attention. But that was one thing I knew I could do. And I did.” 

“Just like you did with Kryptonese,” Alex said. “You studied that on your own, right?” 

“It was too easy,” Jaime said, and Alex felt that stab of failure again. _Stop it,_ she thought. _Listen to her._

“After Skyhook and getting sick, it’s like…” she paused and looked away, “It’s like I know all this stuff now. Sometimes I see the other adults looking at me funny. Not you or Superman, or Maggie. And I can talk to Jon. But I didn’t work on this stuff I know. It’s just there. Like someone added on to me.” 

Alex inhaled and let out a long breath. She took her hand away from Jaime’s and clasped them in front of her, seeing the tips of her fingers go white. 

“You know when I was growing up with Kara, she could do so many things. She could fly. She’d always beat me in a race, to anywhere, to the bathroom. I used to really resent it. A lot because I thought there I was, working my butt off, struggling for top grades in calculus and Kara just zipped through her homework like she was scribbling through a coloring book. 

“But you’re smart," Jaime said. 

“So is she. But here’s the thing, Jaime. We all have gifts, and they can seem unearned at times. But think about Supergirl. Not to mention that guy who just came to see you. They earn them every time they help someone. Every time they put out a fire or keep a ship from sinking. So maybe…” and Alex reached over to stroke Jaime’s hair, “you can look at this as a vote of confidence from..." she paused, "I don't know...the universe. One you can earn once you’ve figured things out.” 

She smiled gently at the girl and Jaime’s expression eased. “Yeah. That makes sense.” 

"Good," Alex said, and patted her hand. “Of course, that doesn’t mean wearing a cape and fighting crime. Not until you're at least thirty. Okay?" 

Jaime laughed, her eyes bright and the relief evident on her features. “Deal,” she said. 

_See?_ Alex thought, feeling the smallest hint of confidence return to her. _Maybe you can earn this, too._


	65. Song and Dance

Now, this was the version of the Underworld Maggie had imagined: A cave, pocked with cracks and hollows, gypsum stars flickering from the torches lighting the chamber. Stalagmites had been hewn into furniture and draped with furs and ornate carpets. A meander, pieced together from tiles of gold and pyrite wound its way around the perimeter of the room. 

At the front, near an expansive fireplace, sat Hades. He was dressed differently now, in a tailed tux, his hair slicked back and parted in the middle like the lead from a silent film. That emo thing was always around in one shape or another, Maggie thought. Still, now that she could see his face, he seemed more bright-eyed and attentive than world weary. 

Hades nodded to his guard, who rather ceremoniously unlocked Maggie from her manacles. She rubbed at her wrists and stood as the god gestured her toward a seat across from him. He folded his hands and Maggie could hear the metal from his many rings scraping together as he spoke. 

“So…” 

Maggie waited, but he didn’t finish his sentence, just stared at her like he was trying to figure out what species she was. “So…” she said back. 

He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “So, Diana convinced me to expedite your case.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke. He seemed, in fact, weirdly awkward. Shy almost. 

“We have a situation,” Maggie glanced ceilingward at a clump of stalactites jutting down at them like nukes frozen in the sky, “up there. A lot of kids are sick with a virus, alien in origin. Diana believes you guys might have tangled with it as well.” 

Hades looked at her finally. “The Hashradi. Pre-Titans. I’m familiar with the lore, but those are stories. They aren’t real.” 

“Real,” Maggie said, her brows knitting. To hear a bona fide god, in a bona fide mythological place, refer to another mythology as a fairy tale seemed odd, but she wasn’t going to question it; Threatening people’s beliefs could backfire in the worst ways. “Indulge us then?” she said. “There isn’t much time.” 

Hades leaned back. “All the time in the world down here.” His expression shifted to one both morose and petulant. She couldn’t tell if it was a threat or resignation and thought about the men and women in the waiting room. So, Hades liked to stall people: a crap card to play for someone so ostensibly powerful. 

She pushed on. “Diana believes that if we take some water from the River Lethe, we can stop the infection. Maybe cure it completely. That’s what we’re here for.” She glanced about, hoping to see the amazon step from the shadows. “Where is she, by the way?” 

Hades grimaced and made a pair of moon-eyes toward the entrance. “With my wife.” The drag on the last word told her all she needed to know. Hades was jealous. Of everyone. Probably for getting a better ice cream flavor or seats at a ball game. 

He stood up and began to pace in front her. “Children die. Do you know how many do in a single day? Twenty-five thousand. Five thousand, five hundred on the continent of Africa alone. In Afghanistan, over one hundred die per day.” Hands folded behind him, he shifted around to face her. “So, let me ask you, Detective, what makes _your_ child so special? The one you’re _really_ here for. Especially…” he lifted a hand looked at his rings, ran a thumb across ruby stone to polish it, “since you don’t seem to like children in the first place.” 

Maggie let out a breath. “My feelings shouldn’t matter.” 

“Oh, but they do.” 

Maggie threw her hands out. “Okay, then. What would be the right answer? That I love one of them? Because I do. Dearly. Even though, yeah, as you said, I’m not big on the kids.” 

She heard her voice crack under the acerbity, but knew even if Hades detected that reluctant hint of rawness in her voice, that Diana had sorely miscalculated on what motivated him. This god was distant, known for his impartiality, but it was more from being deeply lodged within his own grievances than any solid sense of justice. 

Hades gave her the world’s most condescending smile. “Love. Yes, I am deeply aware that people love other people. I see thousands of reluctant separations every day. And as you know, my family saga could fill the entire print run of People Magazine and The Daily Mail." 

"But you're known to have a heart once in a while," Maggie said. "Or is that made up, too?" She was risking it with that last word, but she wanted to poke at him, just a little. 

Hades' eyes went heavenward and he sighed, waving his hand as if at a child. "Oh, and Orpheus loved Eurydice. Gods, I wish I'd never done that now. But you know what, Detective Sawyer? Orpheus at least had a lyre and a song to sway my judgement. What talent do _you_ have to sway me?” He cocked his head and squinted at her and added, “You look like the type who’s too cool to debase herself at karaoke.” 

Maggie chuckled inwardly. So he had some semblance of humor left in him. And it was true. Alex had had to drag Maggie to karaoke nights, and then drag her up on stage, where Maggie still rebelled, choosing to stand there and blandly read the lyrics to Van Halen’s _Jump_. Either that or she’d make it a point to choose the worst song she could think of. Vengeance thy name is _We Built this City_. 

Maggie bit the inside of her cheek and stood. She was already down in Hell, for fuck’s sake, and for all Hades’ real presence, she wasn’t going to be intimidated by guy who dressed like a cross between Ivor Novello and Liberace. 

“Well,” she said, giving him her tightest, blandest smile, “I did do some thinking during that stint in that waiting room back there. And you see, this case up above, it has more to do with you than you think.” 

“Really?” He scoffed, so demonstratively she almost laughed out loud. 

Maggie, too, began to pace, timing her words with the loose gestures of her hands. “I mean, at first, I couldn’t figure out why our old friend Zeke would be down here of all places. Why would you allow your realm to be used as a backdoor for desperate intergalactic refugees? But, then I thought, ‘okay’--and this is kind of based on my undergrad knowledge of mythology and geology, so forgive me, ‘but he’s the god of rare earth metals and elements, scandium, yttrium…’” Maggie congratulated herself inwardly on those last two, remembering the lesson Alex had given her as she analyzed an alien artifact in the lab. She stopped and faced him. “I wonder how it must feel to have all that being mined out from under, or in your case, from above you. I mean, the stuff is dwindling fast. China and the U.S. are buying up everything they can as insurance, and if those guys are worried, you must be shitting yourself.” 

Hades clapped theatrically. “Oh yes, humans make a mess of things. You’re quite the Detective. Now, what is your point, dear?” 

Maggie shrugged and slipped a thumb casually through her belt. “Those guys are shitting themselves, but they have contingency plans. Asteroids are the next step. Already there’s an exploratory expedition set for the Kuiper belt. But you? You’re stuck down here. For all your power, the gods are tied to this world. So, you made a sweetheart deal with the Zakkarians. Let them use the portals to traffic refugees up through the backways, but you take something in return. A few Trommites for your trouble, aliens capable of altering the elements, shoring up your wealth and providing you with those off-world rarities you’ve always coveted. Empryean glass to start. You can do a lot with that. Make another god killer even.” She looked up and locked eyes with him, noting the slightest quiver in his lip. “So, yeah, the whole humans making a mess thing. Not just us, huh?” 

“You…fucking…shit turtle.” 

The voice was husky and the accent decidedly precise. Both god and human turned to see a woman staring fiercely at them from the entrance, although her pose revealed nothing but cool. She was wearing a cocktail dress and leaning against the cold stone, a long cigarette holder in one hand. “I told this dumpster he’d get himself into a pickle,” she said. “But does he listen to me?” 

“You never understood me,” Hades said, his voice trembling. The woman ignored him and turned to Maggie. 

“Persephone.” She smiled warmly and extended her hand. “Nice job, kid. Should have been hiring you every goddamned spring.”


	66. Weather with You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been the week from Tartarus, so I needed to vent a little fury and angst. (; Shout out to Greg Rucka's Hekiteia, one of greatest Wonder Woman stories ever told.

“My wife,” Hades said, nodding resignedly as Persephone waltzed into the room. 

“My _word_ ,” she replied, flailing her cigarette holder in his face as she passed. A trail of blue smoke curled between them like an aside. “This is quite the menagerie.” 

“Don’t be jealous,” Hades said. 

Persephone threw her head back and laughed. “Of what?” She spun around, nodding to Diana who had stepped into the chamber behind her, “this one can’t stand you, and _this_ one…” her eyes fell on Maggie, “clearly isn’t interested. You’re not, are you, dear?” 

“Only in getting out of here,” Maggie said. She returned her attention to Hades who still hadn’t answered her, but his mouth was a thin line that told Maggie everything she needed to know. 

“Is this true, Hades?” Diana said. She must have been hanging back in the corridor, listening in to ensure Maggie’s safety. “You’ve made a deal with the off-worlders? You know that Zeus expressly forbids—” 

Hades threw up his hands, the rings on his fingers briefly dazzling in the torchlight. “Tell that to Alcestis and his girl from Starhaven. Or the Daxamites who fell into Tartarus like so much lead-riddled shrapnel. It shouldn’t surprise you that I have legions of undocumented dead. I’m a Hell god, not a monster.” 

“You’re being disingenuous,” Diana said. “That’s not the issue. You’re trafficking in slaves. Living slaves. From other worlds. That goes beyond overlooking the rules.” 

“Perhaps.” Hades turned to her, his eyes fierce and dark. “But you, Diana, will say nothing.” 

Diana reared back, scoffing. “Or what?” 

“Or you don’t get what you’ve come for,” he said. His voice was calm and matter-of-fact and he turned to Maggie, sighing as if acknowledging defeat. “You _have_ impressed me, Detective Sawyer. Not the kind of talent one usually appreciates down here, but it’s enough. I will grant your and the amazon’s request… provided…” 

He folded his hands behind him and leaned back, eyes raised toward the labyrinthine tangle of stalactites and the thin streams of helictites bearing down on them like knives. Droplets of water spattered Maggie’s arm, stinging her skin, and she took a quick step backward, glancing up just as the stones above her began to writhe and churn, droplets falling thick and fast into a gush that scorched the floor of the chamber. 

Diana’s expression shifted, her confident mockery melting into comprehension and anger. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, rushing forward to pull Maggie further back into the cave. 

“Cover your eyes,” Diana said, but Maggie couldn’t. Her eyes were locked on the spectacle above her, the stones now more like pupae than calcite, and she could see shapes, something alive, writhing within the formations. Hands, clawing for release. Faces, pressed against the translucent surface like they were suffocating inside a sack. Then there was light. That flat white expansion of a nuke going off in orbit, the dilating square on the old black and white TV at her grandmother’s house, and for that for a brief, bright instant, Maggie thought that everything was over. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to see Alex in that emptiness, tried to impress some image of her in her mind, but it was all a blank expanse. When they came to, she saw that both she and Diana had fallen to their knees. The amazon had her hand pressed against Maggie’s back to keep her from falling against ridge of knife-sharp wall. 

Hovering in the chamber were three of the nastiest looking characters Maggie had ever seen, all draped in dark cloaks that might have been sewn from skin, their sleeves hanging low to conceal their talonlike fingernails. What she could see of their faces was a patchy greyness, bruised circles around their eyes, and mouths messily rouged up by what could only be blood. And their eyes. Small pinpoints of light on black. Cruel and vindictive, without a grey area in sight. 

Hades raised his hands in welcome. “My notaries public. And punctual, too. May I introduce the Erinyes.” 

The Furies. Maggie felt a shadow sink over the room. Maggie had seen how their work played out above world, in domestic disputes, botched drug deals, among fellow cops bearing grudges. And Turpin had told her all about the case he’d worked on with Diana in Gotham, when Danielle Wellys had come to the Amazon’s doorstep and supplicated herself in the ancient ritual of Hiketeia, getting herself and the force tangled up in a war against the Bat and a trafficking ring. 

The women folded their hands and bowed. 

Hades turned to Diana and Maggie and smiled as if everything was settled. “To save you time, there’s a small spring running off from the Lethe not far from here. My wife can obtain the water there for you.” 

Diana started to speak, but Hades held up his hand. “It’s a volatile substance, so you’d better allow her to do it. She’s willing to do that, and so am I…” but he nodded up at the Furies, “in exchange for your silence.” 

A gasp of protest escaped Diana’s lips. “Do you think I can possibly agree to—" 

“You will, Diana,” Hades said, “You'll say an oath before the Furies, or--as you said yourself--even more will be enslaved above.” He let his shoulders sag in a brief, perplexed shrug. “What can one do after all?” 

“Why do you think I’m down here half the year?” Persephone muttered. She lit up another cigarette and sidled up to Maggie. “Always something up his sleeve.” 

But Maggie felt no sense of relief in Hades’ promise or Persephone’s weird attempts at commiseration. She felt cold and sick. Hades had no plans to return the Trommites to the surface of the earth. They’d be down here for eternity, in a place likely worse than the one they’d left, without even the solace of an eventual oblivion. She needed to buy time, but the man with all the time in the world wasn’t giving it. 

“Promise me,” Hades said, his voice harder now, uncompromising, “or I’ll take it all back.” 

Maggie’s mind was racing, running through a hundred scenarios and clues, looking for anything. She’d been doing okay a few minutes ago, maybe there was a detail she’d missed, some extra piece of the puzzle she could nail him with. If Alex was here, she thought, she’d be raising a stink and likely her fists. She’d wade through the River Styx like a SEAL and lay mines around Tartarus, and, Maggie admitted affectionately, probably screw everything up in the process. Gloriously, of course. Diana had factored that in, had factored in Maggie’s powers of deduction when she snatched her down to this hell hole, but Maggie's own abilities were failing her now, and you couldn’t really call up a Deus ex Machina against a real god in front of you. 

This wasn’t her world. Wasn’t, she thought with no loss of irony, her crime scene. And that’s when Diana glanced over at her, her expression full of sadness as she knelt before the Furies. 

### 

“Why?” 

Kara’s voice was soft, but her eyes revealed a strained, awkward stoicism that hit Lena even harder. Kara was still in there, but Supergirl was trying to roll things back, to push them, through sheer force of will, into a past where Super and Luthor were simply opposite colors on a chess board. Little more than names that meant their equally simplistic and moralizing equivalents-- Dark vs. Light, Villain vs. Hero, no ambiguity allowed. 

_I was going to tell you tonight_ , Lena thought, but the words wouldn’t leave her. 

She _had_ planned to bring Kara here, to this lab where they now stood across from each other, uneasy, in this bizarrely hostile state of mourning. And making things far, far worse was that the crystals in the lab seemed to be hostile to Kara’s presence, spitting and flickering violently as she took that first step into the lab. As she made her way forward, the lights dimmed and flickered, the translucent panels blackening into a stasis state as if Zod had programmed an antibody to House of El into their very structure. 

Kara's eyes went wide in shock and she took a step back, causing another row of crystals to hiss and crackle. Then her eyes met Lena's, the pain and betrayal breaking through that infuriating impartiality. “Did you do this?” Kara asked. “Was this part of your plan? In case," she shook her head and gestured to herself, " _this_ happened?" 

"No," Lena whispered. "No, Kara, I don't know why it's--" 

Kara let out a little laugh. "Four moves ahead right? Just like chess." She took another step and a stronger surge radiated from the crystals, this one connecting with her hands. Lena winced with Kara as she jerked them away, the alien's eyes taking on that familiar, yet wholly unwelcome red glow. She turned toward the stone. 

“Kara, don’t!” Lena ran forward, holding up her hands. “Alex and I need every bit of this lab for the serum.” 

“Alex...” Kara turned back to her. She was breathing heavily now, almost hyperventilating. Lena saw a sheen of sweat appear on the other woman's forehead. 

“I-I didn’t program it to do this,” Lena said, her voice shaking. “Really. Kara. We should leave. I don’t think it’s safe for you.” 

“You don’t say,” Kara said. Her tone was disaffected now. She was backing away already, doubling over as she made her way toward the corridor. She had one fist clenched and was methodically banging it into her side as she stepped out of the room. Then she reached up and sank her face into her other hand. Broken. 

Lena felt her insides hitch. She hurried over to her, pushing her the rest of the way out into the hall, sealing the door to the lab shut. 

“Stop, Kara. Just stop,” she said. “Please?” She took her by the wrist and was surprised when the other woman didn’t struggle. 

They stood there for several moments in silence as they both caught their breath. Kara’s eyes stayed closed, her body limp against the cold walls of the corridor. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said finally. 

A small part of Lena laughed at the simplicity of the question, even as her heart warmed at Kara’s willingness to ask it. There were so many answers, not all of them in the slightest bit exonerating. _Because I needed to show my mother. Because I’ve had everything ripped out from under me far too many times. Because I am alone in this world. Because I seek knowledge. Because if I know how the world works, and if I can understand its mechanisms, I can keep myself safe. Because I am as different and alone as you are and I need answers that no one has right to keep from me. Not even you._

 _Loving you doesn’t subtract that right._

Lena took Kara’s hands in hers. The other woman let her, but her fingers were stiff and unresponsive. 

“Because you...” Lena said, her eyes blurring with tears, “you would have reacted exactly the way you are now. Then Alex and I wouldn’t have been able to—” 

“Alex,” Kara said, her face contorting. Oh yes, this was a double betrayal of sorts. That was true, but Lena felt something pique inside her. Alex Danvers was the kindest, most trustworthy individual she'd ever had the honor of working with, and here Kara was subjecting that long suffering sister to those same unbendable—and dare she say it--egomaniacal rules. She felt her mouth quirk in a sneer and leaned back, her eyes fixed on Kara's face. _You are so beautiful and brave,_ she thought, _and so damned sheltered in your way_. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kara,” she said. She dropped the other woman's hands and wiped her eyes. “Nobody’s gone and fed you to Doomsday. How else do you think we were able to manufacture the serum? It was _here_. This was the only way. Period. An option, I’ll remind you that we would not have access to had I been a good girl and ponied up everything to the DEO. Which, if I can accurately recollect the timing of Lex’s incarceration, was under the command of one Hank Henshaw. So please. Go ahead and take me in. I’ll go willingly, but you leave your sister out of this. Believe what you want about me, but her _betrayal_ wasn't about you.” 

She ran a hand through her hair and turned away, allowing herself to breathe, to let out her anger and frustration. When she turned back she saw Kara blinking at her in surprise. 

“Yeah,” Lena said, her nostrils flaring. She wiped another tear away with the back of her hand and then calmly, put both of them out, palms up. “Take me in, Kara. And when you’re done with that, kindly grow up.” 

Lena closed her eyes and waited. She expected Kara to hesitate, to sigh and maybe shake her head until she finally pushed herself away from the wall and placed Lena’s hands behind her with gentle efficiency. She expected to led out of the building and lifted up into the chill winds of the Metropolis sky for a short ride to the Hall of Justice, or-- if Kara was being particularly judicious--the humbler Metropolis Police Department. Instead, she heard the rustle of a cape and felt the warmth of another body wrapping itself around her, felt the softness of Kara’s skin as her cheek pressed into Lena’s neck. Lena felt herself convulse, blinking back another wave of tears at the contact. 

“I can’t,” Kara said. She was trembling now, with laughter, Lena realized. She felt a smile crack as she slipped her hand up to stroke other woman’s hair. 

“Can’t what?” she asked. 

“I can’t seem to grow up,” Kara said. She pulled back and confronted the other woman with a warm, self-deprecating smile. “Is this always what happens when your father is a mad scientist asshole?” 

Lena choked in surprise, at the bizarre timing of the joke, at her dissipating anger and their shared astonishment over how things could change so damned quickly between them. They shared so much, even the fickle weather inside them.

She let out a laugh and ran a thumb down Kara’s cheek. “Didn't you know? It's all a normal part of the stunting process,” she said as they pressed their foreheads together. "If you ask me, I think we're both handling it marvellously."


	67. Wino Forever

 

 

The quarters Hades had provided them were something out of an MGM film set, with jeweled furniture and sprawling furs draped over the stone work, and a gurgling marble nymph in the center. There was also a pair of muscular, barely clad attendants who followed them around the room waving peacock feathers. An addition a terminally straight woman might appreciate, Maggie thought, although likely that novelty would wear off quickly. To her, they were more like malfunctioning cleaning robots. Maggie smirked to see Diana swatting one of the feathers away as the servant stepped back,assiduously lowering himself into a bow.

“To fend off the humidity, princess,” he said.

“We’re fine,” Diana said. “Go fluff the pillows. Or something.”

 “The Four Seasons of Tartarus,” Maggie said pushing down on one of the beds. It was soft and inviting, but not nearly as pleasurable as cozying up to Alex on the Kent's fold out before Diana snatched her down to this hell hole. “This would be all very funny if it weren’t so horrific.”

“You should eat something,” Diana said.

Maggie looked at her, eyes narrowing, but Diana pulled out several pouches from her cloak and placed them on the large marble table. MREs from the upper world. Despite the bland and unattractive packaging, Maggie felt her mouth water. Technically she wouldn’t starve in body down here, but the hunger pangs she felt were all too real.

“These are safe for you,” Diana said, “but do not touch the wine or any of the fruit.”

“Got it.” She looked sadly over at the bowl of grapes and peaches, the halved pomegranates that seemed even more colorful and tempting in the dim light. The wine looked good, too, but that would have to wait. For as long as it took.

She walked over to the table and picked up a package. The label indicated green curry, but the contents smelled more like leftover gravy mixed with buttermilk.Her stomach rumbled anyway and she glanced longingly over at the fruit, at the decanter of pomegranate wine on the table. What was it in the myths? Six seeds had been enough to keep Persephone locked down here for the whole winter. She shook her head, still a little in awe that some of the stories were more than allegorical-- unless they were her own projections.

She remembered a film Emily had dragged her years ago. Overlong. Russian. About a planet that was really a conscious organism. It would project its visitors’ darkest thoughts back to them, their wishes, their hopes and fears. She’d expected to fall asleep, but was riveted by the story of a scientist attempting to deal humanely with an alien consciousness in the form of his dead wife. It was the first film she’d seen that didn’t other, but attempted to understand and empathize with something alien—and on its own terms. She was trying to do that here, but the rules of this world made it hard to bridge the gap. 

“So, what are we going to do?” Maggie said. She wrinkled her nose again at the smell and took a bite, nearly gasping with pleasure, despite the taste.

Diana turned toward the window, her head down, “We do as planned. Persephone brings us the water and we return.”

“Wait,” Maggie said. She took another bite and put the pouch down, suddenly losing her appetite. After a minute of choking down the food, she asked, “What about the Trommites?”

“You witnessed what happened back there, Maggie,” Diana said. “I took an oath. If I renege on my promise, the Furies will be set upon me…” she turned to look at her, “and the Trommites.”  


Maggie pushed herself back in the chair. “I um--didn’t think you were serious back there, at least, I thought you had another game plan.”

Diana stepped toward her, her hand raised as if negotiating. “Once we’re up there, I can consult the oracle, find another way.”

“But that will be too late,” Maggie said. “Until a few minutes ago, I was ready to crawl across this table and eat everything on it. Those Trommites, the mothers and children. They’re in bad enough shape as it is. They’ll have given in, eaten, drunk. They’ll be stuck here permanently.”

“Tell me then, what our choice is,” Diana said, her voice was hoarse and for the first time, the amazon looked beaten. “I am not proud of what I have done. I had--I had to weigh the options and the Hashradi pose a far greater threat. To a greater number of people.”

Maggie scoffed and shook her head. “You know, I’ve always hated those problems.”

Diana looked at her, confused.

“The ones doled out in self-help seminars or those online law courses about pushing the fat guy in front of the train to save a larger group of people. They pass as real heavy thought experiments for a certain type, but in the meantime, they oversimplify everything. You can’t think that way, Diana. Neither can I? We accept the complexity and don’t settle up with a few parlor tricks. We’ve got to be better.”

Diana straightened and folded her hands. “Perhaps I’ve been spending too much time in Washington,” she said. This was true, Wonder Woman had done a stint as an ambassador for Themyscira before the cameras and the scrutiny of her memoir—a paganism peddling gateway drug, railed a commentator on Fox News—drove her to back into full-time superheroing. “It’s gotten to my head.”

“It gets to all of us,” Maggie said, her tone easing. She stood up and started to pace, “But it's okay. We can—"

“Hello girls!”

They spun around to see Persephone. She was standing there in a Western shirt and a pair of riding pants, her hair done up in finger waves. In her left hand, she held what looked like an ornate perfume bottle—if that bottle carried a bio weapon. On the front was the bright black and white emblem of a Gorgon. The Hazmat mark of the Underworld, Maggie mused.

Persephone lifted it up like a bottle of champagne. “Who’s delighted to see that February has come and gone? Just a few more weeks in here and I’ll be lining up my cocktail umbrellas in the sand.” She smiled at Maggie and made a dialing gesture with her fingers. “We should—”

“Is that the water?” Diana said, her expression pale.

Persephone strode forward and placed it on the table. “Indeed. You’d better handle the goods, Diana. One drop of the stuff and a person forgets their graduation ceremony, their wedding,” she lifted her hand to her lips and said to Maggie, “that last part wouldn’t be so bad, really.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Maggie said.

“Oh,” Persephone said, “Sorry.”

Maggie turned to Diana. Her eyes urged the Amazon to say something, anything about their situation, but Diana only smiled and said, “then it’s time.”

The goddess shrugged and cast Maggie a somewhat forlorn glance. “I suppose there’s no reason for you to hang around, although just in case you’re feeling social, I’ll be summering in Playa Del Carmen.” Persephone took a feather from behind her ear and backed away from them. As she did, the raised it in the air, the tip of the feather nearly kissing the end of a stalactite. Diana tucked the bottle away in her cloak.

“It’s a little app, plucked it off of Hermes’ boot,” Persephone said, “He charged Hades through the nose for it, his words, not mine. But he made sure I tell you that.” She rolled her eyes. “Only works once. Portal stays open until the feather hits the floor. You’ve got about a minute to leap through once I drop this baby. You kids ready?”

“Wait,” Maggie said, looking at Diana. “Are we going?”

“Maggie,” Diana said. “We must.”

She nodded over to Persephone who released it from her hand. It turned once, like a satellite adjusting its orbit, and began its descent. As it fluttered downward, a whirlwind began to stir in the stifling air. 

”Well, kid,” Persephone said to Maggie. “It’s been nice.”

“We can’t do this,” Maggie said. “Leave these people down here.”

 “We have to,” Diana snapped. “Maggie, this isn’t the time—”

Her words were cut off as the funnel gained intensity; the feather was stirring it on the way Maggie had once seen Kara keep a tower from falling by whipping around it at a startling speed. The entire room seemed to throb, its dimensions warping, the walls expanding outward like a funhouse mirror.

 “We have to go,” Diana said. She reached for Maggie’s wrist, but the smaller woman stepped back, the wind whipping her dark hair in her face.

“I can’t,” Maggie said. “I’m not obligated to the Furies, Diana. And I can’t throw the Trommites under the bus.”

Diana snatched for her again, but Maggie was too fast.

“Maggie,” Diana said.  “You don’t know what you’re risking. Alex is up there...

 Diana was edging toward her, and Maggie saw, trying to manipulate her closer to the funnel. “Who would I be to them then if I let this happen?” she said. “To Jaime? To Alex? You go help them. I’m going to find a way to get the others out.”

Diana locked eyes with Maggie. It was clear that she was furious, but her voice was calm. “If you’re going to be stubborn…” She yanked the lasso from her belt and sent it whipping around Maggie’s waist. Maggie’s knees went weak and she threw her head back in shock. She really, really didn’t like that thing, but she took a breath, and clenching her fists, stared the other woman in the face.

“First of all. I really, really hate your choice of accessory, and second…” She clawed at the table for purchase in a useless gesture of defiance. “This is a misuse of power because I...am...not...fucking...bullshitting about this!”

Diana, now visibly angry, yanked at the lasso again, but as the end of the table slipped from Maggie’s hand, she saw that something else had not. As Maggie came closer to the vortex, Diana saw it, the drop of something deep red on the end of her index finger, just enough of the liquid to do the trick.

“Maggie, don’t!” Diana screamed. She pulled her forward, almost, almost with her into the funnel as Maggie, her eyes meeting the amazon’s, brought the drop of wine to her tongue.

Maggie felt her body ease up as the lasso went slack, watched it coiled itself back to its owner. She saw the panic in Diana’s eyes as the vortex shimmered once and then closed up around her. She was gone.

Maggie stood there blinking in the silence, allowing herself a second of detachment before the finality of it hit her.

Persephone did first.

“Now that!” she said, smacking her clean across the cheek, “has got to be the dumbest, most foolhardy thing I’ve seen anyone do in a millennium! Why on earth would you go and do a thing like that?”

Maggie reeled back and lifted a hand to her cheek. The goddess’s eyes were tearing up.

 “Stupid kid! It’s always the good ones who do dumb things like this.”

“I know,” Maggie said. "About the stupid part anyway."

Persephone reached over and grabbed her roughly by the cheeks, forcing her mouth open. She bunched up her sleeve and swabbed at the end of Maggie’s tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” she said. “The less of that stuff the less of a chance you’ll be infected.”

“Is that how it works?” Maggie asked.

“Kind of.” She lifted Maggie’s upper lip, rubbed her sleeve along her gum until she pushed her away, irritated. Persephone reached up again and dabbed gently at her face. “If you want the sciencey explanation, it alters your molecular structure, locks you into the same wavelength with this dimension. But there are varying levels of infection. Yours was at least strong enough to drive that lasso away.”

“So, I’m screwed,” Maggie said.

“Not necessarily,” Persephone said. She nodded over at the wine. “I’m a good time Charlie, downed at least three glasses of that stuff before he had me. The six seeds thing was just a way to explain the seasons. Plus, my biographers like me innocent. Makes Hades look more like an asshole, which is fine by me.”

She stepped back and took a cigarette from a silver case in her pocket and lit up. She inhaled the fragrant tobacco, and giving Maggie a once over,  blew out a long curl of smoke. “And I am,” she said.

“What?” Maggie said. Her mind was racing. She didn’t even know where to start. How to get to the Trommites. If she got them out, could they make their way out through the Asphodel fields? The Trommites would have to use their abilities. There was no getting out of that, but it would take some convincing, and with them blaming her for double-crossing Zeke, she was going to have a time of it.

“A good girl,” Persephone said. “Although I really don’t want to be.” She took another drag and straightened. “So how about I help you get those Trommites upstairs? There’s another way out of here. The one I take out in spring. Hades watches for me like a hawk, wants to make sure I won't make a break for it, but I send out my assistants all the time to get me supplies from above. I could at least get you to the exit doors.”

Maggie’s lips parted in surprise. “You would do that?”

Persephone dropped the cigarette and stubbed it with the heel of her boot. “I didn’t come here by choice either,” she said. “And besides, I’m happy to have the company, for a little while longer at least.”


	68. We May as Well Go Home

#

“Ow!” Alex doubled back, winded, as she felt the force of the ball connect. She shook her arm. The glove hung limply around her fingers, almost ready to drop its prize. “Damn, kid,” she said, hearing herself squeak on the last word.

“That wasn’t so good,” Jaime said, “I’m like really out of practice.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex pulled herself out of her slouch and tossed the ball back to the child. She was good at a lot of things, sparring, weaponry, scaling thirty story office buildings with nothing more than gloves and sturdy boots, but playing catch with this girl was shockingly humbling.

The weather had warmed that weekend and Alex suggested they take a break a little farther from the Hall to Federer Park. A sprawling expanse of trees and meticulously landscaped ponds, the park had been a go-to place whenever Eliza took her with her to conferences. Although Alex had been a quiet kid, sitting in the back of the hall and sometimes even listening intently to talks on the history of small pox and astrobiology, Eliza always made it a point to skip out of a session or two and take her here for ice cream and a walk.

 It was early March now and a stingy sheen of sunlight was shunting through the branches of the trees. The air was refreshingly brisk and Alex made sure to see Jaime had dressed warmly, even cajoling the girl into wearing an oversized F.B.I. jacket that the Hall agents used as cover.

 “Youngest agent ever,” Alex had said as Jaime regarded her warily. “It’s cute.”

And it had been, but now that she was playing catch with the kid, she redecided on formidable.

 Jaime swung her arm and threw the ball back and Alex felt herself flinch. She didn’t need to. As it came whizzing toward her, a bright red blur intercepted it.

Kara stood, feet planted in the middle of the clearing. She held the ball in her hand, regarding it curiously. “Is this Bailor Chen’s signature?” she said, looking over at Jaime.

Jaime’s eyes went wide and she stepped back, taking a second to regain her composure.

 “I wish,” Jaime said, “it’s Tiny Jackson’s.”

 “Quite a scrawl,” Kara replied.

 “Hey. That was for me,” Alex said.

 Kara laughed. “You so weren’t going to catch that.”

 She tossed the ball back to Jaime, with a just a little too much force, Alex thought. But Jaime reached to the side and caught it without a hint of surprise.

 “Everything okay?” Alex said, keeping her voice bright. She was relieved when Kara answered with an equally sunny smile.  

“It is,” she said. She cast Alex a meaningful look and Alex felt herself relax even further. So, Lena had told Kara about the lab and somehow, they’d worked things out. 

She let a smile creep over her face. “You didn’t come back last night.”

 Kara’s cheeks colored slightly. “I did not.”

 They both glanced back at Jaime who had bent to tie her shoe, but the familiar way the girl’s head tilted, Alex thought, was a sure sign she was listening.

 “I’ll tell you everything later,” Kara said. “Well, not everything.”

  
“Deal,” Alex said, feeling a welcome spasm of warmth go through her. It was nice to be having these conversations again, even in the middle of all this darkness. And even if it was a conversation that six months ago, she might have never in her life predicted. “Do you wanna hang out? You’re better at this than me and we’re going for hot chocolate once we decide we’re too cold.”

 Before Kara could answer, there was a ripple above them and they looked up to see Wonder Woman descending through the trees.

 “Wow,” Jaime said. “This is going to be the best practice session ever.”

 Kara looked at Alex, whose heart was already pounding out of her chest. If Diana was back, had Maggie been left off at headquarters? Maybe she was waiting for them there.

Diana’s expression told her otherwise and Alex felt the rush of wind from her abrupt landing even as she couldn’t find it in herself to breathe.

 Kara quickly stepped over to Jaime. “Looks like work, kiddo,” she said, placing an arm around her shoulder. “How about I fly you over to the food carts.” But Jaime turned away.

 

“Alex?” she said.

 Diana’s hand was on Alex’s arm, already comforting, already moving her away from the other two, and Alex struggled to keep her voice level.

 “It’s okay, Jaime,” she said. “Just some bad guys breaking into a store. Wonder Woman needs my help.”

 “But wouldn’t Supergirl be better?” Jaime said.

 Alex closed her eyes and felt her heart sink even further as the girl slipped a hand over her mouth.

 “I mean, I didn’t mean it that way,” Jaime said, “It’s just that, this is fun. You and me here.”  She shot a nervous look at Kara and mumbled, “no offense” and Alex’s heart nearly ripped itself out of her chest.

 “No, no, you’re right,” Alex said, her voice forced and almost sing song, “but Supergirl needs to be freed up in case anything _else_ happens. See? That’s how it works. Not enough superheroes to go around.” She swallowed hard and slipped the baseball mitt from her hand as she walked over and passed it back to Jaime. “See you two both back at the ranch?”

 Her voice broke on the last word and she turned quickly to keep herself from crumbling in front of the girl. Then she and Diana walked steadily way from the others, keeping quiet until they heard Kara mention a bulgogi taco cart and then the whoosh of her cape as she lifted Jaime into the sky.

 Alex stopped. “Is she…” her voice broke, “tell me.” Her eyes blurred with tears and she squeezed them shut. Diana took a deep breath and said, “Technically, she is. Dead.”

 “You,” Alex said, breathlessly, “you left without me!” She stepped forward and pushed her hands clumsily against the taller woman. “I could have gone. This wouldn’t have happened if—”

 In an instant, Diana had snatched both of Alex’s wrists and was holding her to the spot. “I said ‘technically,’ Alex. Maggie’s body will remain in in-between for three turns of the earth.”

 Alex caught herself and swiped a sleeve over her eyes. She let the words sink in. Allowed herself to breathe. “Then how do I get her out?”

                                              #

“It’s through here,” Persephone said. With a light gesture, she pushed open  the swinging doors to what was all intents and purposes a Western saloon. A very gay Western Saloon, Maggie thought. Circa 1978.

The patrons were, from what she could see, all men, dressed in chaps and Western shirts, tobacco tins having long worn faded blue rings in their pockets. They were leaning against the bar or the walls, tossing back cans of Oly and Schlitz as a player piano plinked out a jarringly upbeat version of “Seasons in the Sun.”

Maggie thought back to her mother’s penchant for golden oldie love songs and grimaced. That one had been Elena’s favorite and she remembered thinking that the singer, dying or not, was just laying a massive guilt trip on his girlfriend for not sleeping with him. She always heard from the elder gays that the ‘70s had been  a great time to be queer, but when it came to this stuff, she was glad she missed out.

 Persephone saw her expression and leaned in. “They play the maudlin stuff to keep Hades from coming around. He doesn’t like it. It reminds him of work.”

 “Didn’t know Hades would patronize this kind of place,” Maggie said.

Persephone raised her eyebrows. “Sweetie, the only reason he pulled me down through the Agitus canyon was to prove that he could.”

 “Really?” Maggie let out a laugh. The first one since she’d trapped herself down here.

 “It’s actually the whole reason he’s down here instead of Poseidon,” Persephone said. “Zeus was a bit of a phobe back in the day. You might even call the Underworld the greatest downlow in history.”

 Maggie nodded, suddenly feeling a little more, if not sympathy, than at least a tinge of empathy for the god.

In time with this information, another roll of paper curled its way around the piano’s tracker bar and Gilbert O’Sullivan came on. A couple of the cowboys conked their beer cans together and started to sing.

_In a little while from now  
If I'm not feeling any less sour…_

“See?” Persephone said. “Anyway…this is where the magic happens.”

 She pulled Maggie to the counter and gestured for her to take a seat. Then she waved down a silver haired man who was washing glasses behind the bar. “Zephyrus,” she said, “Plant yourself here for a minute, junior.”

The man put down the glass and unsmiling, walked over and took a seat between Persephone and Maggie.

 “What can I get you, Proserpine?” he said, his voice flat.

 Persephone glanced about the room. “I’m just wondering if you’ve got any shipments going through those tunnels tonight.”

 He shook his head. “No, not tonight. Not with the dog out and about.”

Cerberus, Maggie thought. So that was real, too?

 “Well, you see,” Persephone said, undeterred. “My friend here needs to go on a ‘coffee run.’ Maybe take a few of her friends with her.”

 Zephyrus’s jaw clenched. “How many?”

 Persephone didn’t blink. “About twelve.” She looked back at Maggie. “It’s twelve, right?”

 Maggie nodded.

 Zephyrus sneered. “Her? Proserpine. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean look at her. She’s small. That dog would eat her alive.”

  _So, it was true_ , Maggie thought. _What the fuck have I gotten myself into?_

 “Oh no, it wouldn’t, sweetie, see she’ll have help. A lot of it.” She reached up and pulled Zephyrus down by the collar, whispering into his ear.

 Zephyrus’s eyes went wide. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said.

 

Persephone shook her head. “Nope. Look. You’re an ethical guy. I know you don’t even want to be down here. But Zeus is going to find out about what Hades is doing and when he does, well, your being on the right side of things might make him reconsider your situation.”

 Zephyrus lifted a can of beer and brought it to his lips. “You _are_ serious.”

 “Never been more serious in my life,” Persephone said.

 He leaned in. “You’ve got a window. But it’s a short one, okay? Bring ‘em around the back way on first lights out. And don’t be late.”

 “No worries,” Persephone said. Zephyrus got up and went behind the counter where he produced a bag of tins. “For the dog,” he said to Maggie. “When you hear it, and you’ll hear it, open three of these and get the hell out of Dodge.”


	69. Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quickie scene shifts here. Lots of talking, so tried to make it a little move a little faster. This chapter is dedicated to Valerie Perrine.

Unlike the lavish rooms Hades had provided for Maggie and Diana, the Trommites were crowded into a dim cavern that unlike much of the Underworld’s warm and humid climate, stayed starkly cold and dank. Maggie grimaced as she and Persephone made their way through the narrow passageway into the clearing. The enclosure smelled of mud and freezer burn and water dripped with a loud, maddening consistency from the ceiling.

The aliens were sitting in a circle as they entered, speaking to one another in hushed and cautious tones. They almost didn’t seem to notice or care as Maggie and Persephone approached, all except the woman with the child. She glared as she saw Maggie, scooting back across the cold floor.  

“What do _you_ want?” she said.

She was thinner, Maggie noted. They all were. Hades was wearing them down.

Maggie pulled out the last of the MREs Diana had given her and approached her. Although her child would not die of starvation, it was suffering the symptoms all the same. “Yes, it’s me,” she said. “And I’m still not who you think I am.” She held out the package and looked over at the group. They were staring up at her, blinkered and almost cowed. “Are all of you able to walk?” she asked.

The older man nodded, his expression fearful. “Where is he taking us?”

“ _He’s_ not taking you anywhere,” Persephone said. “There’s been an earthquake upstairs, so he’s a bit distracted. Now’s your chance to leave.”

The woman stood and approached Maggie cautiously. She took the pouch of food from her. “How can we trust you?” she said. 

“Oh, come on,” Persephone said, “you were all suckers enough to trust that Zeke guy and you’re asking that? Zeke is gone. Took his money from _you_ and Hades and is up gallivanting around National City.”

“I really need to talk to that guy,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “Look. You’ve all got about five minutes to gather your things, unless that is, you like it down here. And there’s another thing.” She raised her chin and stared down the elder. She assumed he was the leader, and unfortunately, he was also the most timorous. “You’ll have to use your powers to make an opening in the…” she turned back to Persephone, “north wall, was it?”

Persephone nodded and the elderly man’s mouth quivered. “But we cannot. This is what we tried to tell Hades. It is too dangerous. The molecular alteration will create instability at a subatomic level, if we were to…”

“Nuh-uh,” Persephone said, swatting down the man’s words, “ _this_ is the Underworld, Sweetie. You’re safe until you get to the lift.”

 “The lift,” Maggie said.

“It’s a fast pass portal that’ll get you above sea level and into the lower levels of the cave. Real smooth transition. No worries about the bends. Once you’re through, you’re technically above world.” She paused and regarded Maggie cautiously, “technically.”

 “Which means,” Maggie said.

 “No one from the upper world can see you until you’re out.”

#

 “I would escort you myself, Alex,” Diana said, “but that would only make things worse.”

Diana had taken her to the library where they were pouring over old scrolls and ancient maps. The room had the woody smell of papyrus and Alex felt more like she was play acting archeologist than trying to save her former fiancée’s life. Her impatience was growing exponentially. “How?”

Diana exhaled. “That would incur the wrath of the Furies and they wouldn’t finish with me. They’d go after Maggie. And the Trommites, and likely, you.” She folded her arms and turned toward the window, eyes distantly skirting the Metropolis skyline. “As long as I take no active part, we all remain safe. Maggie took no oath.”

Alex curled her fingers into a tight fist. _Of course, she hadn’t._ Maggie was as stubborn and as brave as they came. She felt a new surge of regret riding through her. If Maggie had been brave enough to refuse an oath to the Furies, and then to defy Diana, what chance had Alex ever had to strong-arm her into kids?

Diana turned back, sliding her fingers over the oak tabletop until she came upon a mountainous region on the map. “You will have to enter the Underworld physically, and there is only one route on Earth where that is even possible. It’s far.”

“That isn’t an issue.”

Both women turned back to see Kara standing in the doorway. “I dropped Jaime at the Kent’s,” she said. “So, tell me. What are we dealing with here exactly?”

Alex flicked an irritated glance at Diana. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

She felt Kara’s hand squeeze her shoulder, but her sister’s voice was gentle. “Let her speak, Alex.”

Alex let out a shuddering breath and dipped her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, I just...I want to get started.”

Diana and Kara traded glances. “If she is to enter the Underworld,” Diana said, “the closest route would be the Rhodope mountains in Thrace.”

“Bulgaria,” Kara said.

Diana nodded. “There’s a cave called the Devil’s Throat. It’s where Orpheus descended to rescue Eurydice. All other routes would be impassable for mortals.”

“So, the story is true then?” Alex said, hope catching in her voice. “We can go down there and extract her? Then we’ll need a squad.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and was about to dial J’onn when Kara clasped a hand over it.

“Alex, listen. Why don’t I go? I can use my X-Ray and telescopic vision and locate Maggie in--”

“You do that,” Diana cut her off, “and she _will_ die.”

Kara furrowed her brows. “How does that work?”

She took a seat next to her sister and kept her hand, reassuring, on Alex’s forearm. Diana leaned forward against the table.

“You both know the story.”

“Of course,” Alex said. “How is that going to help us?”

Diana ignored the snipe and continued. “Thus far you mortals have come up with many beautiful interpretations of it, about the nature of memory and doubt, the fleetingness of love, but the insight the Olympians have waited longest for you to hit upon is scientific. And that you’ve come to in a far more roundabout way than we expected."

“Then by all means, what is it?” Alex said, her patience was worn to a nub.

“Evidence of quantum mechanics,” Diana said. “On a macroscopic level.”

The agent’s face went slack and her lips parted in surprise. Diana didn’t continue. Instead she waited for Alex to puzzle it out.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Alex said raising her finger. “Observer influences the outcome. Wave _and_ particle.” She gripped the arm of her chair and pushed herself up, “So, you’re saying that Eurydice was the ancient Greek version of Schrodinger’s cat.”  


Diana nodded. “That is _why_ Hades told him not to look back. Once Orpheus did, he decided the outcome. Just like that lion when you open the box.

“It’s a cat,” Alex said.

Diana smiled at her enigmatically. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Maggie is still in a state between life and death. So long as an outside observer doesn’t see her, she remains in stasis.”

Alex reached up and pressed her palms against her eyes. “So, I have to go down there blind then. How is that remotely possible?”

“Alex, stay calm and listen,” Diana said. “The first part of the journey should be safe. You will descend to the Orleon dome in the cave and wait for her there. There are hundreds of passages, many of them traps. That’s where she’ll need you to lead her back up through the way you’ve come. You will know it,” Diana said, pointing a drawing of a Macedonian lion, “when you see this. Stay. Wait for her there. You will hear her coming.”

“But if I hear her...”

“It’s only optical,” Diana said. “That’s where the Olympian magic comes in,” she smiled.“But Alex, there is one more thing. When Orpheus  looked at his love he wasn’t really seeing her, but projecting his ideal, that naïve young girl from his past who would have believed anything, would have done anything he asked. He didn’t see the woman who’d been to hell and back, and thus he sealed her fate.”

“What are you getting at, Diana?” Alex said.

“You will be able to get Maggie out,” Diana said. “But memory is not restorative. It is reflective and can only survive in uncertainty. If something does go wrong, if you look upon her before both of you are out in the open air, your only hope is in accepting Maggie entirely for who she is and who she is always, already becoming. She cannot go back to what she was to you before.”

Alex swallowed and closed her eyes. It was so hard, even now not to linger in the past. She’d spent months doing it, going over her mistakes, remembering the good times they’d had together. That past was what gave her hope and now Diana was telling her she had to discard the very thing that was feeding her strength. She inhaled deeply and nodded.

“I understand,” she said and felt the reassuring warmth of Kara’s arm around her shoulder.

“I’ll take you there,” Kara said, “Can you give me the coordinates, Diana?”

 “Take me to Clark’s first,” Alex said. “There are a couple of things I need to bring along.”

#

The Trommites had opened a wide opening in the wall. They stood waiting in the passage as Persephone and Maggie said their goodbyes.

“No one can see you until you’re out, understood?” Persephone called out to them. “You folks can make yourselves invisible, but make sure that this little one stays out of sight.”

She passed Maggie a wad of crumpled bills stamped in Cyrillic.

“What’s this?” Maggie said.

“Some Lev. You’ll come out in Bulgaria. For food and a phone call, and I uh, doubt you’ve brought your passport on this excursion.”

 “ _That_ got lost in the mail, actually,” Maggie said.

Persephone looked at her wistfully. “I’ll send a little bird up to let Diana know you’re on the way. She can alert someone to help you in the last stretch of the journey.” She sighed and took Maggie by the arms, looking at her as if she wanted to impress her image on her memory. “You’re a nice kid. Maybe next month, when I’m up above ground, we could…Oh, fuck it.” She grabbed Maggie by the collar and planted one on her.

Amused and more than a little touched, Maggie let herself sink into the other woman. After all this, she doubted Alex would begrudge her the chance to kiss a bona fide goddess. After a few seconds, she pulled away, her head swimming. No wonder the Olympians got around so much.

 “That really wasn’t fair of me,” Persephone said. She ran a hand through her hair and rolled her eyes heavenward,  “just once I’d like to get one of the good ones.”

 “Not a problem,” Maggie said. She reached up and tugged a strand of the other woman’s hair back into place. “Maybe I can introduce you to some good ones when the weather warms.” Then she leaned in and gave the goddess a light peck on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said, “for everything.”

Persephone looked away, fanning her face as her eyes went misty. “Just go now. And for Charon’s sake, don’t forget to feed the dog.”

 

 

 


	70. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience on this very late update. I had an epiphany on Lena and have been thinking it out. Scene is drafted and wanted to post this shorter update in the meantime. In the home stretch and hoping to finish this story by the end of the July.  
> Thank you so much for sticking with it.

_From that point, all you must do is wait._

That was Diana’s promise, and now that Alex had severely misjudged the drop into the cavern before detaching the cable, it was all she _could_ do.

She felt that sharp jab of pain as soon as she hit, her left foot twisting on a ridge of slippery rock. Her voice had echoed loudly, dispersing through the hundreds of tunnel entrances that surrounded her in the vast chamber. They were, for an escapee, one final cruelty.

The lost soul would emerge into the cavern, rejoicing, breathing in the cool air of the upper world only to be forced back down with a myriad of routes-- only one offering the way out. The others, Diana had told her, would shunt a person right back down to the Asphodel fields, to Acheron or Tartarus, or worse, a lonely and dark oblivion.

Using the golden oil of Hestia, Alex had carefully marked her path, painting a circle around the exit before dropping to the ground. Hades, Diana explained, was well aware that those rare souls who successfully escaped might map out a route for followers, and used a spell to ensure nothing could cling to the walls.  The oil would remain, Diana assured her, at least until Hades discovered it.

She leaned against the clammy stone and rubbed her bandaged ankle. The drop had been a stupid move. But despite the injury, she would have no trouble hoisting herself back up through the entrance. Kate Kane had also provided her with goodies. Along with the invisibility gear, she’d gifted her with an anti-gravity cable and proton-charged batarangs. And from another source, she had something extra.  

She’d she’d tried to be quiet when Kara had dropped her on the Kents’ balcony. It was well past midnight and as she packed her Nalgene water bottle, she felt someone watching her. Jaime was standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes with a fist.

 “Hey,” Alex said, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice. “It’s late.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not…” she said, straightening, “I just…I…”

The girl’s face hardened and Alex exhaled. She slipped the pack from her shoulders and looked Jaime in the eyes.

“To get Maggie.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, but right or wrong, that child would see the truth. If Alex were to lie to her and not make it back, she would leave her with unanswered questions. The kind that, as with her father, would continue to gnaw at the girl as she grew up?

Jaime didn’t say anything. She just crossed the room and flung her arms around Alex’s waist. She crouched into the embrace and ran a hand through the girl’s hair.

“Just a couple of days,” she said, hearing her voice shake. “I’ll have her back. I promise. We’ll go to a game. Order in pot stickers.”

She felt herself start to choke up and pressed a kiss to Jaime’s forehead. The girl stiffened and Alex felt her own body hitch. Had she overstepped?

“Soup dumplings,” Jaime said.

“What?”

“I like those better,” Jaime said. She pulled back and smiled, a hint of mischief in her expression.

“Hipster," Alex said. 

"Maybe." Jaime shrugged and held out her hand and Alex saw something gleaming between her fingers. "Here," she said. She opened them to reveal the golden orb, the one from Maggie’s cop friend, Turpin.  “It creates luck," Jaime said. "I want you to take it.”

Alex felt the words like a weight. If she didn't make it back, it would be Turpin who took in the girl.  She didn't feel right taking away the gift he'd given her. Turpin had been less welcoming of Alex when they'd first met, mainly because Maggie and he had shared a long bromance of sorts, and seeing 'Mags' make wedding plans, he'd admitted later, made him feel old. When Maggie and Alex broke up, Turpin had sent a terse note to acknowledge the receipt of a gift return. "You screwed up," it read.

“Jaime,” Alex said, swallowing the memory, “this was for you. You need—”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, giving Alex that same look Maggie did whenever their jurisdictions clashed and the DEO was forced to back down. “Just take it, okay?”

Alex took the sphere from the girl’s hand. It was reassuringly cool, and despite the constellations etched on its surface, as smooth as pearl. She smiled and tucked it safely into the inside pocket of her jacket.

“For luck then,” she said.

“For Maggie,” said Jaime.

Alex bent down and gave the girl another hug. “For Maggie.”


	71. Through the Glass

Lena sat back, watching as the Lethe water trickled through the lengthy coils of tubing into the platform shaker. Per Alex’s instructions, she was diluting the liquid with a combination of synthesized white Kryptonite and the tsundari extract used to temper the Zakkarian antidote.

For a long time, Lena had been a cynic about the concept of neuroplasticity, not doubting the science as much as the usual trail of self-help and victim blaming that often followed in the wake of such discoveries. The platitudes that always peddled one very convenient message: Your life is your fault.

Lena’s sure hadn’t been, but at least _she_ had grown up with the resources and the privilege to change things. If someone with her advantages found it hard to defy a past laden with dysfunction and self-doubt, she couldn’t imagine the strength required of those who had less. Tierney had been one of those rare examples to come up from nothing, but even he, it turned out, had help.

Learning the Hashradi language had reshaped those children’s brains, enhancing the neural connections in their hippocampi, eliminating the impermanence of short-term memory, and making them more receptive to Hashradi influence. She and Alex had located the spot in the cortex that the Hashradi were using as a backdoor, worming their way into their neural circuitry until they controlled the very structure of their DNA. With a little luck, they would be able to block that point, placing dampers on that section of the cortex without damaging the children’s memories or abilities.

The Hashradi were ancient beings, Diana had told her, no more capable of surviving in this part of the universe than a tyrannosaurus in an oxygen-replete present. They spent their existence expanding outward, quantum particles forever seeking purchase, in living consciousness and living matter.

Tierney’s learning of their language and his development of the technology to pass it on to these children had given the Hashradi exactly what they wanted. She had no doubt that however self-serving, the CEO’s intentions had been at least partially good. As one man, the Hashradi hadn’t revealed themselves to him, they’d simply allowed him the insights to grow, and that Promethean desire to pass on the spark. In return, he had unwittingly given them a voice, and finally, access to their minds and bodies.

She stared at the liquid, momentarily hypnotized. It had that soothing glimmer of sunlight on water, like a flicker of memory that teased itself and then disappeared before the mind could settle into it.

Lena’s mind drifted to the night before. 

Kara had stayed.

She had dropped Lena off in her suite at the Metropolis Arms, and rather than flying off and leaving their issues for another day, the Kryptonian had walked back to the sliding glass door to the balcony and shut it.

Lena stood, surprised by the suddenly muffled traffic and the sight of Kara. Kara, and not a cape fluttering in the night sky. Kara, and not a red blur on the horizon. She was still there, in the same room, staring awkwardly at the warm flames that now crackled in the fireplace. 

“Aren’t you—” Lena stopped herself, not wanting to put the suggestion in the other woman’s head. This was _always_ the part where Kara flew away, where her shoulders squared and her voice took on an amicable and an almost irritating sententiousness. But now Kara was just Kara. Looking vulnerable and uncertain. 

“Don’t know how my cousin manages to sleep in this town,” Kara said, her eyes still averted, “National City is loud enough.”

She was still standing perilously close to the glass, swinging her hands, Lena noted, like a nervous child. Her eyes met Lena’s and she smiled. 

“Kara? Are you alright?”

Kara shook her head, her brows furrowing. “Oh...yes. I mean, why wouldn’t I be?”

Lena laughed then and felt her own cheeks go warm. “You seem nervous,” she said. She stepped closer and took Kara’s hands in her own, tugging her closer. Kara let herself be pulled, moving away from the window, closing the distance between them.

“Well, I mean, with everything that’s going on,” Kara said. Lena was still pulling at her, gently directing her to the bed. “There’s a lot to be anxious about. Not that that isn’t my default mode, but…” She sat down, nearly falling backward as Lena pushed her into a sitting position. “You’d think I wouldn’t be so…”

Lena sat down beside her and without a word, reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind the other woman's ears.

“I mean, we have aliens," Kara said, "ancient aliens and Alex is literally, and I mean literally in Hell. Haha. Going to give her hell about that one.”

“Ouch,” Lena said, and Kara smiled at her own joke, turning to face her just as Lena leaned in and planted a kiss on her neck. She heard the hitch in the other woman’s breath as she continued her way up to her jawline, her ear. God, she smelled good. Like a forest after a rain.

“And well,” Kara said, easing back slightly as Lena buried her face in Kara’s skin. “I’m uh… sure that you must be pretty stressed out with all this half-magical, ancient Greek amnesia sauce…oh—”

“Kara Danvers,” Lena said, exasperated.

Kara sat up abruptly and cupped Lena’s face in her hands, pressing their foreheads together. She locked eyes with the other woman.

“Lena?" she said, "Is this really okay?”

Lena closed her eyes and laughed, gently. “Of course. Of course, it is.” She reached up and curled her fingers through the other woman’s hair. “Stay with me tonight.” Their faces were inches apart now and Kara’s lips parted. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She brought her mouth to Lena’s in a kiss more intense, yet somehow more tentative. It felt as if Kara were drinking from a fragile antique glass and Lena tugged her closer, deepening the kiss. After a minute, they pulled back, both of them breathless.

“Unless there’s a major--” Kara said.

“Stop right there.” Lena put her finger to the other woman's lips.  She shook her head and reached up to slide her other palm over her cheek. How could skin so soft be invulnerable? And this was the crux, really: not aliens, not her sister being in the Underworld--no magical whatnots. Kara was afraid of harming her.

 “I trust you,” Lena said, “I’ll tell you if things…” she lost the words, “...okay?”

Kara exhaled and nodded quickly. “Okay,” she said. “I—” She closed her mouth and slipped her arm around Lena’s waist, allowing her hand to slide slowly up her back as she pulled Lena gently down onto the bed.

Lena smiled, shaking off the memory and turned her attention back to the process. She took one of the crystals from its stand and ran it over the chamber, feeling more confident as it hummed. Lena learned how to use the crystals’ nano applications on her own, but Kara had taught her how they could be adjusted to detect exact chemical and elemental compositions. This was a good sign. The serum would be ready for testing, perhaps even before Kara returned.

As if in answer, Lena heard the ping of the elevator from the upper floor. It was likely Diana coming to check on her, but a small part of her hoped it was Kara, back early from her journey to the Rhodopes. Perhaps Alex and Maggie were free and en route, with a story or two to tell and a few souvenir drams of ambrosia--now that would be something to experiment with.

Smiling, she pressed the button to open the door into the outer lab. “Don’t forget quarantine!” she said. It was a quick enough process, a flash of light, a cool mist of Bismolian Nialene killed the cooties of alien and human alike. But when Lena glanced at the monitor, neither Kara nor Diana was waiting for her. Instead, she saw another face gazing up at her with all the confidence of a cat finding a goldfish flopping in its food dish. Lena took a step back, her fingers pressing the call button.

“Mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bismol is a reference to the homeworld of Tenzil Kem (Matter-Eater Lad) of the Legion of Superheroes and someone I would have loved to have seen, however briefly, on the show.


	72. Worlds Turning

Below the  Orleon cavern where Alex nursed a sprained ankle, somewhere between a foot and half and an entire universe, Maggie Sawyer was coaxing a group of exhausted Trommites up a narrow ridge.

“You feel that?” she said, nodding into thin, but noticeable breeze, “that’s wind, from above. We’re almost there.”

She looked back at that ragged group, keeping her smile locked and struggling to conceal her irritation. For the past three days, she’d been listening to them argue with all the vagueness and equivocation of a boardroom whenever the slightest need for their powers emerged. _Should we provide light to keep ourselves from falling into the river Acheron? Should we convert the limestone into oxygen in order to make the opening large enough to fit through?_ And each time, Maggie—minus the persuasiveness of Persephone—had had to reassure them that yes, they were still in the Underworld, and yes, it was safe to do so. The aliens were as emotionally fragile as they were powerful, and it was really no wonder that Roxxas’ invaders had exploited that as a powerful weakness.

But that thin vein of air, the freshness of it, was a sign that they were close to the Lift. Maggie took a few steps forward, training the thin beam of her flashlight on a small arched passage above the ground. It was marked with a streak of berry-colored lipstick.

“Persephone,” she said, shaking her head, “like an old goth at a graveyard.”

They had reached the Lift.

Glancing back once more to reassure the Trommites, Maggie pushed herself up into the entrance. The tunnel was narrow, but brief, for at the end she saw a flickering brightness, sun and shadow coming and going at equal intervals.

“This is it,” she said, “follow me.”

With a gasp of joy and relief, she dropped into a large cavern, the roof a dome, encircled with a mosaic of lions that seemed to run circles around the ceiling in the flickering light.

For at the center of the room was an enormous, incandescent gemstone that while not moving, projected light and movement onto the ceiling above.

She remembered waking up one lazy morning to find Alex up making a batch of pancakes. She reached over to the nightstand for Alex’s copy of _New Scientist_. Inside had been an article about the Lascaux caves, about the ancient humans who’d created a kind of proto-cinema on the walls of the cave. Swipe a torchlight under the stone and the bison would flee their hunters across the plains.

Now, staring up at these massive felines as they wound their way around the ceiling, she could see the movement. The more she kept her eyes fixed upon them, the faster they seemed to move, forming a ring of motion in the way— it was rumored—Kara’s cousin had spun around the earth to resurrect Lois Lane.

But unlike the Orpheus myth, that story had turned out to be apocryphal.

Kara had even confided to Maggie that she wasn’t sure if it was true. Kal-El, whenever she broached the subject, had vehemently denied it. 

“And you believe him?” Maggie said.

Kara shrugged.  “Well, yeah, it wouldn’t have worked for one thing. But mostly I just stopped asking because he gets _really_ touchy about it.”

“Touchy,” Maggie said, not a usual descriptor for Superman, but she could relate. After their encounter with Emily, she and Alex were still working out their boundaries: Alex trying not to push, Maggie trying not to conceal so much about her past and her feelings. They’d had an argument earlier that night. Another one of those situations where Alex had spoken lightly about an incident in her past. One of the few lighter moments from her teenage years, Maggie recognized. For despite growing up in relative privilege, Alex had also lost a father, had also had her requisite number of demons, albeit wrapped in a shinier middle-class package.

But something in Alex’s story about a sailing jaunt had sparked a darker memory in Maggie. Not a boat. She’d grown up in Nebraska, after all, but a hiking trip with some of her schoolmates. Luisa had splurged so that Maggie could go and the trip had gone well enough. Maggie had bonded with some of the girls, had even made a lifelong friend or two, but Luisa had had car trouble on the way to pick her up. So, tanned and smelling of pine trees and roasted marshmallows, Maggie waited at the edge of the Karsten hiking trail, watching as one by one, her friends were picked up in station wagons and SUVs, by ostensibly loving parents. A friend, and later lover, Lana Simpson, had made her parents stay in the car, waiting with Maggie until the air chilled and the sun began to settle over the horizon. “You can come with us,” Lana had offered, “crash in my room if you need to.”

Maggie was hungry and tired, the elation of the trip having worn off hours ago, but pride and stubbornness had taken its place. She looked at Lana, forcing a half smile as she lifted her phone from her pocket, keeping the screen turned away from the other girl’s view. The battery was dead.

 “Just got a text,” she said. “She’s on the way.”

This memory and all the feelings that came with it, however disconnected, felt strangely complete now. For up in the world above, she knew Alex was waiting. And Jaime. For her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short update. Partner is in town this weekend and we're enjoying a rare bout of relaxing with some wine and Killing Eve mixed in. That said, it wouldn't be a truly relaxing weekend without Maggie Sawyer. More on the way.


	73. Heads Together

Maggie stood by, helping the Trommites as they dropped from the passage into the chamber. The old man, whom Maggie learned was named Kin Fyrah, went first, and Maggie winced as she saw his face contort upon hitting the ground. She slung an arm around his waist and helped him to the cave wall. His younger attendant followed.

“Do you think it’s safe if he has water?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t,” Maggie said. She clasped Fyrah’s arm. “We’re almost there,” she said, “from here on out all you need to do rest. We’ll handle things.”

She smiled at him, but the old Trommite’s eyes looked dead. He was breathing, but his mouth was dry and Maggie felt the hollowness at her core grow more intense. The hunger and thirst would intensify, gain consequences now that they were feeling the effects of the real world. They had to move fast. But as the rest of them came through the passage, Maggie saw something like hope returning to their faces. They were all in awe. A few of them pointed up at the lions weaving their way around the cave’s domed ceiling.

“All right, everybody. This is the Lift,” Maggie said, approaching the strange gemmed stalactite at the center. “There’s a thing here,” she said, “it will shift us into the upper passage. Persephone said it was—”

She held her hands tentatively over the crystal. It looked familiar, she thought. Like that Kryptonian tech they had in the DEO.

Tentatively, she reached out to a crystal in the center, almost jumping as it hummed at her proximity.

 _This is either it or a trap door,_ she thought.

“Just don’t, okay?” she said as she pinched the crystal between her fingers, “be the latter.”

She felt a jolt go through her, not unlike touching the railing in a department store. Then a low groan sounded, a cracking followed by the moan of air passing through a tunnel. All at once, beams of light shot through the ceiling and Maggie leaned back, saw the lions turn, their legs moving in some kind of masterful optical illusion as they ran down the walls and into a passage at the end of the cavern.

“This is some serious Indy Jones…” Maggie whispered. She turned back to the Trommites, gesturing them forward into the opening. “Go! “she said, pushing them forward as they passed. “You need to switch your molecular structure. You can’t be seen until you’re out.”

Maggie shoved the young Trommite forward into the passage and hurried over to the old man. “Listen, I’m going to grab you and then you need to make yourself invisible, alright? No one gets to see you until we’re all the way out.”

He nodded weakly and Maggie slipped her arm around his waist, hoisting him into a standing position. He closed his eyes and steadied himself, and then suddenly, there was only Maggie, proud possessor of a mysterious weight. Unfortunately, the transformation of his molecular structure into meta particles hadn’t made him any lighter and Maggie grunted as she carried him forward. They were a few feet from the passage when a low growl sounded from behind them, sending a shudder through her. It was like nothing she’d ever heard. Slowly, she glanced back and saw it—a shape, large and menacing, six pairs of eyes trained on them like the red beams of a gunsight.

Maggie could only laugh.

_The dog._

Only it was the farthest thing from a dog.

The thing was a goddamned, three-headed tabby.

“What…the…I can’t,” she said, “is this a lesbian thing? Because I’d never in a million years project _that_.”

She had the tins from Zephyrus in her pocket. She dug in her hand and   managed to thumb one open, tossing it in the animal’s direction. The thing stopped mid-pace and started sniffing the air.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s there!” she said pointing. “Theeere!”

The thing lurched its heads in their direction and snarled. A long string of drool trailed from one of its mouths. “Of course, “Maggie said. “You can spot us from a hundred yards, but can’t see the goodies right under your nose…noses.”

She felt the old man try to pull away from her and gripped him harder. “Well, this explains the Cat Fancy.”

She pulled another tin from her pocket and without opening it, hurled it at the animal. It bounced close enough to the food for the creature’s noses to pick up on it. The animal stopped and began pawing at the opened container.

 As she pushed the old man through the portal, Maggie turned and had the last word.

“I’m a dog person!”

The first thing Maggie saw as she got into the passageway was a dripping cavern full of a myriad of passages.

The second thing she saw was Alex. Hopping in place wearing a blindfold and holding up a torchlight.

The real world didn’t make much sense either.

“Maggie?” Alex said. She took a hesitant step forward and nearly fell.  She was limping, Maggie saw.

“You trying out for baton club, Danvers?”


	74. Raosend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longish update. Thank you for your patience with the shorter chapters.

Lena stepped back and pressed the lockdown settings on the chamber door, but as she suspected, Lillian had rendered all the security worthless. Or rather, Lillian hadn’t really infiltrated the building. She was a hologram of sorts, a projection that looked uncannily solid and real.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Lillian said, smiling directly up at the camera. The sentence was finished in person as the figure slipped easily through the chamber door, letting off the tiniest flicker at the interference.

“I’m sorry if this is untoward,” Lillian said, “but I couldn’t compromise my location.” She walked around the lab, her eyes narrowing as she took it in. “I knew you’d do marvelous things with this place.”

“How did you find me, Mother?” Lena said.

“Are you going to call me that now?” Lillian said. “I thought we’d finished with that pretense.”

Lena didn’t answer. She stared at the image of her step-mother, her mind racing. How much could Lillian actually see? Perhaps this was a bluff, a way to get Lena to divulge information. Lillian extinguished those thoughts with a wave of her hand. She swept it blithely through a Kryptonian coffin stone, delighting as it let off a spark, reacting to an illusion.

“What I’d give to be able to use this technology.”  She looked at the stone as if gazing down at a newborn. “But humans can’t do much with Kryptonian crystals, not beyond a certain point. And oh, have I tried.”

“You’ve been here?” Lena said.

Lillian folded her arms and faced her. “Is that even a question? I’ve known about this place since long before Lex was incarcerated. You know, he still thinks if he had access, he could master this technology, but it’s you, Lena. Only you. I left you to play so to speak. And it was so worth the wait." 

“What do you want?”

Lillian stepped closer and, after giving the lab a proprietary glance, folded her hands and faced her. “Have I ever told you why I named the organization, Cadmus?”

Lena snorted. “You’ve always had a penchant for grandiose metaphors. Cadmus sowed his army from dragon’s teeth. Now that I think of it it's the 'Taser-face' of hate groups.”

Lillian looked down and chuckled; then she raised her eyes to meet Lena's. “Not dragon’s teeth, Lena. You.”

She nodded toward the Hashradi glyphs that were trickling across the monitor. Lena had programmed them to help her put together the cure.

“You haven’t told Alex, but you can read it now. Can’t you?” 

Lena felt her fingers curling into fists. “Alex isn’t here for me to tell, Mother.” 

“Did you wonder,” Lillian said, “why you were able to learn that code?”

Lena shrugged. “Tierney became fluent.”

“Tierney learned as a child. As did all the others now in quarantine in Metropolis. Adults can learn the meanings of discrete symbols, can fumble over hodgepodge interpretations, but they can’t use it. Not the way you do. In fact, you have this second nature ability to work with alien technology. Have you ever wondered why?”

"Hard work," Lena said, "and a whole lot of privilege." 

She paused for a moment, and Lena swore she could hear the older woman’s voice tremble. “Cadmus created an army from dragon’s teeth after following a cow to the right spot. I suppose that's what Lionel did, too, in a way." She snorted bitterly and Lena was impressed once again with how much her father’s betrayal must have scarred Lillian. She was always so composed.

“But then he brought me you...and you have brought a gift to the world.”

“A cure isn’t a gift,” Lena said, “It’s a necessity, a right, one that Alex and I both worked very hard on.”

Lillian shook her head in mild disbelief. “An affliction only if one can’t control it. With this serum, you—and I suppose I'll give credit to that Danvers woman—have created the ultimate defense mechanism against the alien menace, a means to filter and control the gift of limitless knowledge, Lena, just as Cadmus brought the Phoenician alphabet to the world.”

#

In the beginning, there was darkness.

And then snark.

Alex awoke to the sounds of tired bodies scuffling closer, of echoed voices—one, in particular, resounding through the caverns like the world’s most out-of-place sound byte.

“I’m a dog person.”

Laughter choked from her throat. She reached down to confirm that Kate Kane’s anti-gravity cable was securely attached. If the ladder broke, it was the only way up. She reached up and touched the blindfold, now securely in place.

“I look like Emo Kylo Ren,” she said to herself. Diana had said the magic only privileged sight and only the observations of those who were of the upper world. But even as her heart reacted to the sound of  Maggie’s voice in the distance, she worried.

 She heard the Trommites chattering to one another as they approached. Alex wasn’t as adept at alien-speak as Winn, but she knew a few words of Trommesi. They’d stopped when they spotted her. They were whispering, as if they weren’t sure she wasn’t a threat.

 _The DEO uniform_. She’d told J’onn time and again that it was far too similar to the new ones issued to the HOJ agents—particularly those of their Planetary Immigration and Customs enforcers, who’d made it a habit of late to separate family members.

She thought for a second and then pulled out her badge, mentally imprinting an ID for ‘Alex Danvers, Field Agent, ACLU.’  Okay, so the ACLU didn’t _have_ agents, but the Trommites wouldn’t know that. And they’d certainly recognize that blocky white over blue font as the organization had represented them in numerous cases. Most notoriously,  a ’religious liberty’ case in which a used car dealer had fired a Trommite for refusing to turn his lemons into gold. The man had attempted to defend himself with a verse from Colossians. Something about slaves obeying their ‘earthly masters.’

“Hey,” she said in her best Trommesi, “it’s okay.” Then in English, “You need to…go…here.” She held up her hand in a placating gesture, and with her other, she tugged on the ladder. A low growl sounded from the direction of the passageway.

“What was that? “she said, her hand reached for one of the Trommites. She grabbed someone by the wrist, a woman. “Detective Sawyer. Is she coming?”

The woman put a hand on hers. “She’s behind us, but we ran into trouble. There is a creature. We have to hurry.”

“You’ve got this, Maggie,” she whispered to herself. “Please, please have this.”

Another Trommite grabbed her arm, rather roughly. “We’ve no time. Is this the way to Colorado?”

“Close enough,” Alex replied. Feeling her heart jackrabbit, she shoved the person toward the ladder and felt a rush of air, smelled a mingling of body odors and the scent of leather as they clambered one by one up to the passage that led toward the mouth of the cave. If it was daylight, there’d be tour groups coming through. That would make for an interesting sight.

She started as she heard the creature snarl again in the distance. And then, there was silence. She tried to count out the Trommites as they hoisted themselves onto the ladder. _Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten._.

How many where there?

 _Eleven_. A boy from the sound of his voice.

Where was Maggie?

The howling stopped. She heard the chain-link clatter of the ladder hitting the cave floor. 

“Shit,” Alex said. She lifted her head. “Anyone still here? I can help you out.”

Silence.

“Hello?”

She snatched a torchlight from her belt and ran her hand over it to activate the mechaincandescance. She felt it warm under her touch, realizing the absurdity of the gesture a little too late.

“If you’re still here, come toward the light. I can get you out. It will take longer, but we can…”

Her voice trailed off as its echo returned to her. There was no response.

The Trommites were all out. Everyone but Maggie.

And that monster the woman had spoken of.

Something moved behind her and she spun around, wincing at the tug in her ankle. She lifted one leg, trying to steady herself, holding out the torch in a defensive position.

“Trying out for baton club, Danvers?”

Alex dropped the torch to the floor and a half-laugh, half-gasp escaped her.

“I never took you for a cosplayer.”

“Maggie.”

The next thing she knew, she felt Maggie’s hands enclosing her own, squeezing them tightly. She’d always marveled at the size of those hands, at their elegance, at the use Maggie put them to when pleasing her. She let her weight fall into the other woman, her eyes squeezed shut tightly for safety’s sake, but also to keep back the tears. Soft fingers traced the contours of her cheek and Alex felt those lips brush against her forehead, and then that all-consuming warmth as they pressed against her own. Maggie’s breath was cool and her mouth had a slightly acidic tang, from hunger she guessed, but Alex had never tasted anything so good.

“Is it you?” she whispered as she pulled away. She ran her fingers through Maggie’s hair, matted and damp with sweat. She felt a tickle of breath as the other woman chuckled.

“Well, I’m not one for the whole Cupid and Psyche thing,” Maggie said, tracing a finger down Alex’s cheek, “so I’d posit that’s a yes.”

Alex allowed herself to smile. “You smell so good.” She caught a whiff of something discreetly floral. “Is that Chanel?”

Maggie stiffened slightly and then laughed a little more. “ _That_ is a long story. Let’s get out of here first. Know which one of these holes we need to pop through? This place looks like a colander.”

“Yes,” Alex said. She lifted her arm and pointed at the ceiling. “I marked it. Can you see? It’s in gold.”

“Really? Where?”

“It’s there. The rope just dropped, but we can use this to get up.” She took Maggie’s hand and pressed it against the anti-gravity cable, followed Maggie’s fingers as they traced the curves and points of the Batarang.

“Kate?” Maggie said.

Alex paused before giving a brief nod. “She wanted to help.”

Maggie squeezed her hand again before letting go, and Alex heard the loose fabric of her clothing rustle as she knelt to rifle through the equipment. Maggie uttered a satisfied, “huh” and Alex could swear she heard the toggle rattle on of one of Kate’s flash grenades. She shrugged in acceptance. Kane had gotten there first on that one, too.

 “Nice,” Maggie said, “Now where’s that ladder you were talking about?”

Alex took an awkward step back. “It _should_ be there.” She pointed, not sure if it was the right direction, but it _had_ to be visible. The rope couldn’t have fallen far from the opening. And why couldn’t Maggie see the markings?

“I don’t see anything,” Maggie said.

Alex exhaled sharply. “Okay. I’m going to have to take this off,” she said, pressing her hand to the blindfold. “You need to move away, make sure my back is completely turned.”

Maggie was silent for a moment and then Alex heard her footsteps backing slowly away.

“Make noise,” Alex said.

Maggie clapped her hands. “I’m here. Turn your back to this sound and we should be good.”

“Okay,” Alex said, turning as Maggie continued to clap. Slowly she reached up and began to tug at the blindfold. Her hands were trembling. If she caught even a glimpse of Maggie, even for a femtosecond, it would—

A rough hand grappled her from behind as another tore the blindfold away from her face. She yelped as she felt the burn of the fabric across her skin, and kicked violently at her assailant. He fell backward. Alex squeezed her eyes shut, giving him a chance to come at her again. He landed a blow to her solar plexus and her eyes opened in shock to the sight of an empty cave. Well, almost empty.

In front of her was a Trommite male. Still a teen, likely. He looked both terrified and determined.

“I’m sorry,” he said in Tromessi. His eyes were glassy and he circled Alex now, his fists clenched. The boy must have been the one to cut the ladder. He’d likely used his powers to remove the markings under Hades’ orders. “He said he would take care of me.”

“Maggie?” Alex called out. Forcing her eyes closed again. Maggie had been nowhere in the chamber. That was either a good sign or Alex had sent her back into the Underworld. _Oh god._ Even just a passing shadow.

The boy attempted a placating tone  “Do not worry. I’m to be richly rewarded. I’ll make sure she is comfortable.”

Alex swallowed, the rage boiling up inside her. Kid or not. Desperate or not. If need be, she’d go down to retrieve her. She’d make this bastard gondola her across the River Styx and then throw him in for good measure. 

Eyes closed, she lurched toward him on her bad leg. The boy danced out of range, but Alex had been trained for blind combat. She hopped forward, smacking him hard across the mouth, then bashed his head into a stalagmite as she found purchase on the cave wall. Her eyes stung with tears and she reached up to wipe them away with her sleeve, catching a brief glimpse of the boy as he brushed abstractedly at a trickle of blood on his lip.

“You believed him?” she said. “Hades?”

“Hades is a man of his word. He told me that if I stopped his wife’s plan with…” he nodded to the air, “that detective, he’d set me up. And in truth I have more to offer in Hades’ kingdom. Why go to a place where my powers are forbidden? Who,” he said, with a laugh that made Alex recoil, “needs Colorado when you’ve got wealth and everlasting life?”

 She felt a shift in the air between them. And then pain. He’d altered the composition of the metal in her watch, the antique quartz Jeremiah had left behind. Eliza had passed it on to her after she and Maggie announced their engagement. Now it was burning against her skin, hot like a brand iron. She winced in pain, nearly burning the fingers on her other hand as she tried to get it off.

Oh, this pipsqueak was going _down._

“Give my regards to the others,” he said, resignedly. “that is if you can find your way out. Alone.”

He stepped back toward the passage through which the Trommites had come. It was closed up now, Hades’ spell having sealed it off, but he lifted his hands, his expression focused and purposeful. The stone made loud popping noises as it was converted into pure oxygen. He was boring a hole, a hole that would lead him right back into Tartarus.

There was a loud smacking sound, a sick thud that sent him reeling backward. Reflexively, Alex opened her eyes to see the boy crumple to the floor, his hands shooting to the back of his head. There was a large chunk of stone hovering next to him. It rose again and smacked him hard across the face.

“I’m probably repeating myself,” Maggie said, “but you’re a lot of fun, Danvers.”

Alex felt her whole body shuddering with joy and relief. Kate’s invisibility shield. Maggie must have spotted it mixed in with the other goodies—and Maggie being Maggie, well…

“I thought…oh god,” she said, almost hyperventilating, “I thought—”

“You might want to turn away,” Maggie said. “Last I heard, Kate said this was a little glitchy.”

“Right.” Alex swiveled around as she heard her approach and felt the comforting warmth of the other woman’s hand press against her back.

“Still can’t see the exit,” Maggie said. “Can you?”

Alex leaned into Maggie’s touch, feeling herself settle again even as she barely let herself hope. She lifted her hands to block her peripheral vision and raised her eyes to the ceiling, at the multitude of pockets above them. It was like looking at the sky in Midvale. Those nights when it was so clear, Kara could point out Krypton’s galaxy.

“That little shit wiped away the markings, but if I had some light maybe.” The torchlight had been broken during the Trommite’s attack. She slipped her hand into her inside jacket pocket for her phone. The damned thing had already switched on.

 _Saved by a boob dial_ , Alex thought.

But as her fingers encircled something smooth and round, she remembered that she’d left the phone in her equipment bag. It was the orb. The ‘good luck’ charm Jaime had given her. The thing was glowing, even brighter now as she pulled it out and let it rest in the palm of her hand.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex said.

“Don’t tell me J’onn’s calling you in.”

Alex laughed, both at the joke and in bewilderment. The orb grew brighter, the constellations etched into that strange golden translucence were now floating over its surface, emitting sharp beams of light that projected themselves like a night sky on the ceiling of the cave. And each one met and locked onto a passageway above, the dark recesses now forming points of light, the stars of a long-dead constellation. 

Keligar, Jaime had called it.

And at its center was an enormous circle of light, hovering overhead. Alex trailed her eyes along the edges, catching a trace of the markings she had left. Despite the Trommite’s molecular alterations, some of it remained in the stone.

“Maggie?”

“Alex,” Maggie’s voice was quietly awestruck, “is this what I think it is?”

“I think so.”

Alex took a step forward, positioning herself beneath the light. Then she closed her eyes tightly and reached down to place her fingers over the switch on the anti-gravity cable.

“C’mere, you.”

Alex felt the warmth of Maggie’s body as she pressed against her back, listening as she secured the carrier belt around her waist.

“Ready?”

“Always.” Maggie wrapped her arms around her, pulling tightly as Alex slipped the orb back into her pocket. It would take years, decades to understand this little godsend, to get an inkling the technology and the civilization that had created it—not to mention its connection to the Olympians. And maybe, Alex thought fleetingly, as the cable entangled them in a field and sent them rising up into the light, maybe they should keep it secret.

The real godsend had been Jaime.

“Not quite like your bike, but I’ll take it,” Maggie said and Alex smiled as she felt the other woman rest her chin on her shoulder.

“Hold on,” Alex said, “we’re going home.”


	75. Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter. Finally getting there. Thank you so much for reading!

“Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted, Lena?” Lillian said. “For me to give you your due?”  


Lena stepped back and let out a long shuddering laugh. She felt her insides shifting as if reality was twisting inside of her. “You’re sick, Mother.”  
That shadow took a step closer and Lena felt herself shrinking into herself. Then she gritted her teeth and straightened. If this was it, if she was finally to have answers, there was nothing left to fear. Lillian spoke and Lena felt the heaviness growing in her center. A lifetime of not knowing would be far, far worse.  


“You’ve found a way to unleash the knowledge of well…” she made a light gesture, “everything really. All the Hashradi are and know as they’ve expanded through time and space, and you Lena have made that knowledge accessible to the human race minus the consequences. You have sown the Dragon’s teeth.” She paused and bent her head. Lena could hear her own heart beating in the silence, felt the growing raggedness in her breath. “You may not believe me,” Lillian said, “but I always knew you were special.”  


Lena shook her head slowly. “Mother,” she said and leaned forward, her hands pressing into the cold steel of the lab table as if that utilitarian reality might negate what she was hearing. “Who was she?”  


Lillian’s projection floated toward her and Lena wondered with a shudder if it would always be this way, Lillian always there, hovering over her in her darkest, most private moments.  


“Your father met her in Romania. Although I suppose met isn’t quite the right word.”  


“I...I knew about the orphanages,” Lena said. “Was he experimenting on women there? Children?”  


Lillian chuckled bitterly. “Experimented? Try excavated. May I?” She nodded to a large wall monitor and Lena nodded, making the hand gesture to switch it on. A series of black and white photographs appeared on the screen, of a burial site on a rocky hillside, the snowcapped ridges of the Carpathian Mountains rising up behind a scattering of men who leaned against spades, one of them holding the ropes to a cart loaded with broken fragments of stone and pottery.  


“They found the tomb just two years before the Ceausescu regime collapsed. Lena peered at the photos and a few indistinct memories of a Daily Planet article pieced themselves together in her consciousness. An ancient tomb. A cover-up, but nothing exciting or interesting enough to lodge itself even in urban legend.  


“It was months after they shot him,” Lillian said. “Your father had been at the forefront of deciphering the genome then. His technology was in demand everywhere from Johns Hopkins to the Max Planck Institute. The Romanian government had asked him to assist them, along with one Esther Paarva.”  


Lena swallowed. Paarva was a world-renowned evolutionary geneticist, known first for unraveling the DNA of an Egyptian mummy and finally, that of a 10,000-year-old corpse found frozen in the Alaskan permafrost.  


“Paarva disappeared,” Lena said.  


“Stay with me, Dear,” Lillian said. “Paarva just was a reluctant participant. Mummies and ice men were rather anti-climactic. Their profiles had little more to tell us than the DNA of an Anchorage hockey player. But this, oh no, this was different. The remains they discovered were…extraordinary.”  


“Don’t tell me she had ichor running through her veins.”  


“Close enough,” Lillian said. “Some said she was a god. Others an alien, but I like to think she was the perfect human, one who came before the Fall so to speak, and one so unmistakably powerful as to make Kryptonians look like flyweights. We did not know it then, but her DNA was part Hashradi, perhaps the true source of Promethean fire.”  
Lena swallowed and ran a hand through her hair. “You’re saying he somehow resurrected my mother?”  


Lillian shook her head. “Your father wasn’t able to replicate her DNA entirely, much of it had deteriorated to the point where it was impossible, but he saw another possibility and he had all the human capital he needed. The country needed money and help with its orphans, and your father offered to help in return for secrecy. This is the only photo I’ve managed to track down.”  


“Oh, God,” Lena said. She pressed her hand to her mouth and swallowed as Lillian flashed another image up on the monitor. It was a hazy, sepia-toned photo of a dark-haired woman, her head turned slightly as she stared out of the window of what looked to be a hospital room. Squeezed between her fingers was the bent stem of a wilted rose and she looked frail, so ethereally beautiful, Lena nearly lost her breath at the sight. The resemblance was unmistakable.  


“Who was she?”  


“Her trail begins at an orphanage in Brasov and ends at a facility in Bucharest where she was brought for a resistant form of tuberculosis. That was right around the time your father began working with her. Claimed he could cure her through ‘gene therapy.’ Of course, he told me none of this,” Lillian said. “I’ve had to piece it together over years and years. Some is conjecture. Her name was Lucia.” She laughed then, a little nervously. “Lionel wasn’t one to stray, which, I’ll admit, had more to do with self-discipline than any loyalty towards me. But somewhere along the way, he must have fallen.” Her voice became a whisper. “And look at the result. _You_ ,Lena.”  


Lena looked away from her step-mother’s projection, unable to face that small signal of genuine tenderness emerging from beneath that gloating expression.  
“Was. Is she alive?”  


“No.” Lillian’s voice was soft now as if even she couldn’t find it in herself to gloat. “And I only know that because your father had nightmares. Bad ones. He’d wake up sobbing, raving about how he hadn’t wanted to do it. ‘You threaten us all’ he’d say. He had no vision, couldn’t see that Lucia was a godsend for humanity if one only played the long game. Like I did, with you.”  


An acrid taste rose in Lena’s throat and she walked over to the steel basin and spat up a stream of clear liquid. She wiped her mouth and then started at an enormous wrenching groan of metal being torn apart. In the hole that was once an entrance, stood Kara. She dropped the remains of the steel door behind her with a shattering sound and dashed toward Lillian, her face contorted in anger.  


“It’s a projection, my love,” Lena said, but Kara had already stopped. She was blinking at Lillian, scanning her with her X-Ray vision.  


“Got me for a second,” she said. She looked Lillian up and down. “And what do you want?” she said, her voice level.  


“Oh, I’ve gotten what I came for,” Lillian said. “I think Lena has, too. Haven’t you, Dear?”  


“You’re not getting the serum,” Lena said.  


Lillian blinked in confusion and then tilted her head and smiled in disbelief. “How do you think,” she gestured to her image, “I was able to project this inside if I wasn’t able to monitor you and that Danvers woman as well? I’ve got all the ingredients. Of course, not all the components. The Lethe water will take some doing, but I think a bit of Empryean glass we’ve obtained from the Zakkarians should do the trick.” 

She gave Kara a dismissive look and stepped closer to her daughter. Lena’s face was a mask of calm, but her entire body was trembling. Kara came behind her and placed her hands firmly, but gently on the other woman’s shoulders. “I didn’t tell you nearly enough when you were growing up,” Lillian said, her voice almost breaking, “which was part of my plan for you, of course, but you are an amazing woman, Lena. I’m proud of you.”She reached up, her hand resting an inch from Lena’s face and then she shimmered into nothingness.  


Lena felt her knees buckle and Kara turned her around and pulled her into an embrace. She whispered to her, her hand gently tracing her back for a long minute until Lena was able to regain her breath. 

“My mother,” Kara said, “she did that, too. Just flickered out and was gone. It hurts.”  


Lena nodded into her and a sob escaped her as Kara pulled her closer, burying her face in the other woman’s hair. That denial of love and home was all too familiar, but for Lena, it was so much worse. 

“I won’t leave you,” Kara whispered, “not ever.”  
#  


Feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin and the brisk mountain air, Alex pulled off the blindfold, but Maggie was no longer there. Standing before her was the group of Trommites, surrounded by Bulgarian police--and a cave diver couple gaping in wonder and irritation at the people who ’d interrupted their honeymoon.  


“Maggie?” Alex said. “This isn’t funny.” 

She heard a laugh and jumped as she felt a hand on her ass.  


“Just playing with you a little longer, Danvers,” Maggie said, and Alex felt her breath against her ear.  


She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You just got out of Hell free and you’re already acting like a perv.”  


“Turn around,” Maggie said. “I want to see your...eyes.”  


Alex did so, hesitantly, and as Maggie shifted into her sightline, it was like stepping into another world. She was there. Not just in body, but in sight and spirit and heart. She was thinner than Alex remembered, her dark hair slightly matted, her clothes scuffed with the mud from the cave, but it was Maggie. Her Maggie. Alex felt the tears come and reached up to touch her cheek.  


“God,” she said, marveling at the sensation, at their closeness. With her other hand, she wiped a sleeve over her eyes, feeling the abrasion of her watchband against her skin. “I finally get to peek and I’m crying so hard I can’t see you.”  


Maggie slipped her arms around Alex’s shoulders and pulled their foreheads together. For a long moment, they held each other, swaying as if to some far off music. Alex squeezed her eyes shut to stop the flow of tears and when she opened them, she saw that Maggie was crying, too.  


“We made it,” Maggie said.  


“Yeah,” Alex said, her voice faltering, “we did.”  


Maggie leaned in and kissed her again.  


That night, after a shower and a long sleep in a HOJ assigned hotel room near the U.S. Embassy, they lay tangled together in a small single bed. J’onn had helped them out the immigration morass they’d gotten into through entering the country illegally, but they were informed in no uncertain terms that they needed to return to the U.S. the proper way, which meant a designated plane transport with all the paperwork in order. The Trommites would seek asylum in the EU, it looked like. It wasn’t Colorado, but for them, this turn of events had been a lucky one. The EU would be friendlier to Trommite asylum seekers than the U.S, and as the old man had stated, the Rhodopes were just as pretty as the Rockies.  


It was Alex who woke first, her eyes trailing down the sliver of sunlight now tracing a gentle line across over the rumpled bedspread. Maggie, in a classic throwback, had kicked their blanket halfway off the bed in the middle of the night, her body heat enough to warm the room. Alex looked down in wonderment at the sight of Maggie’s foot brushing lazily against her ankle and slid her fingers down the other woman’s back. This felt so good, Alex thought. Like home. It was home.  


Maggie, still half asleep, rolled over and curled herself into her. “Morning.”  


“I think it’s probably noon,” Alex chuckled.  


“As long as time still works, I’m good.”  


Alex smiled and traced her fingers through the other woman’s hair.  


“How are you holding up, Danvers?”  


“Oh, I’m holding,” she said, feeling a smile stretch across her face. She felt Maggie’s lips press lightly into her neck.  


“Me, too.”  


Alex leaned into her, letting her head rest on Maggie’s. “I suppose we need to talk about things.”  


Maggie tensed and Alex wanted to kick herself. _Timing, Danvers. You’ve really got to improve on that._ She swallowed as Maggie pulled away a bit and propped herself on one elbow.  


“Really?” she said. “Because I’d really rather not.”  


Alex felt her heart drop. Had this been a fluke? A night of ‘thank you’ before they went back to their separate lives? But then Maggie slipped an arm around Alex’s waist and pulled her in tighter. “No more talking. No more closure. No more processing.”  


“I—I think we need to,” Alex said. “I mean, I did a terrible thing to you, Maggie. I was selfish and so--god, I’m going to say it--homonormative and I—”  


Maggie pressed her fingers to Alex’s lips. “Just hear me out, okay? I know it’s morning and I know we just escaped hell and I know I can be reticent about all the wrong things at all the wrong times, but sometimes, there’s a good reason for it.” She furrowed her brows and began tracing her finger along Alex’s forearm.  


“I think,” she said carefully, “that’s where we went wrong. I mean talking got us into this mess. We talked for days on end—me, hung up on the past and you caught up in some hypothetical future when maybe we should have just let our lives happen. So, maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t want to talk. I want to go back and get Jaime and resume our lives. They’ll never be neat. Or perfect. Or how we’ll think they’ll turn out, but I want...I hope we'll spend what we can of them together.”  


Alex managed a tight smile and took Maggie’s hand. “You think," she said, her voice breaking, "we'll be okay this time around?"  


“I'm not sure about that, Danvers," Maggie said. She smiled and brushed a tear from Alex’s eye before pulling her closer. “But I kind of think braving the gates of hell takes care of that for better or worse part, don’t you?”  


Alex didn’t speak. She couldn’t. All she could do was stare stupidly at the beautiful woman in front of her and answer her with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter. There's an epilogue coming that will tie up some loose ends and leave quite a few more open.


	76. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This borrows from the Superman Apocalypse story in which Kara was taken as a teenager to Themyscira and trained by the Amazons as a means of helping her adjust. That story always made a lot more sense to me than just leaving her with the Danvers. She's still grown up at the Danvers in this version, but I've added in a few Amazonian summer camp experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story began on a cold night in Tokyo last November with the sliver of an idea and a heap of frustration over a certain ending that shall not be named. It feels right to finish the last chapter on the subway in NYC, the real Metropolis/Gotham. Thank you to everyone who has read and or commented on this story. There were a few decisions I'd certainly backtrack on in hindsight, but this has nevertheless been a huge exercise in the importance of trusting myself and pushing through to the end, and I am so, so grateful for your feedback and encouragement.

Months after the return to National City, after a move into a 6th-floor walk-up with a library two blocks away, and a balcony for Kara, their lives began to settle.

Alex and Maggie _had_ talked _,_ not in the way people did when seeking closure or making major decisions. Instead, they discussed the myriad of smaller, more tedious, but cumulatively more important choices—what color to paint the living room, or who was the best kids’ dentist, and now that they had a kid, whether or not a Blue Apron style service might mitigate their old habits of falling back on takeout or Alex’s disastrous turns at cooking. 

Then there’d been other pressing problems, like the dog and the choice of a school.

The first ended with a four-year-old Beagleman Jaime picked out at the National City animal shelter. 

“We going with Gertrude?” Alex said.

“Clyde,” said Jaime. 

“She kind of looks more like a Clyde,” Maggie said. “That sharp nose is kind of bank robberish.”

And so Clyde Gertrude took up residence on their sofa and at the foot of Jaime’s bed. 

The school? Now, that had been the hard one. 

Having compromised on private vs. public—Maggie had insisted on the latter—Alex remained stubborn about a science magnet. Jaime then firmly informed her mother that if she couldn’t be a pro baseball player someday, she was going to be a poet. And didn’t that mean that the arts magnet was a better choice?

“You know,” Alex said, swallowing a huge dollop of panic, “science can really help you with art. I mean, you do need to know the names of plants and dwarf stars and the different clades to write, um, poetry.”

“I know those anyway,” Jaime said, “and then some.”

Alex had never looked more like Eliza in her life and Maggie threw her head back and laughed. She rubbed Alex’s back sympathetically before passing her a generous glass of wine.

They kept the scotch for special occasions now, or for those nights when a work crisis brought one of them to a breaking point, for those moments didn’t come with any less frequency despite the recent surplus of happiness they’d enjoyed. There were a few particularly trying weeks early on after Kara had taken time off to help Lena get settled in Themyscira and all the old faces came out of the woodwork: Roulette, Mxy, and the ‘Traveling Sleestack Cartel’—really. But Kara and Lena had their own questions and their own happiness to attend to, and it was a break that was well deserved. 

“She’s got an old school friend helming L-corp. A nice woman,” Kara had told her, “albeit a little high-strung. But I think this is the best thing for her. The Amazons have access to the ancient texts, not to mention the oracle.” She said it with a tinge of uncertainty Alex had slipped an arm around Kara’s waist and tugged her closer. “It was great for you. Although I’m still jealous of the surf there.” 

“It really was,” Kara said, “when I was new and having trouble dealing with my powers. I still can’t believe Clark was so dead set against my going.”

“Does Eliza know?” Alex asked, “about you and Lena?”

Kara frowned thoughtfully. “I think we need a little time first, you know?” 

“Yeah, I do. And honestly, it won’t be the most surprising thing she’s learned about you. Or me for that matter."

"And now you're a boring old married woman," Kara said, “give me a turn to shock the parents."

The wedding had taken place a few hours before, just days after Alex and Maggie had returned stateside. They wanted to get it over with before another crisis came calling, so settled on stealth nuptials that turned out to not be so quiet once they, Jaime, and Turpin, who’d been their witness, stepped out onto the Metropolis street to be pelted with rice. Or something like it.

Alex started, almost leaping defensively in front of Jaime, half-expecting to see a Berberian spit bat until her gaze locked upon her mother standing between a guilty looking Kara and a bright orange fire hydrant that echoed the couple’s alarm. 

“Alexandra,” Eliza said, “you are in  _so_  much trouble.”

Kara backed away defensively. “You know I couldn’t keep this from her.” But Maggie stepped forward, and in an expert feat of conflict resolution, took her new mother-in-law in an embrace.  “We were a little superstitious this time around. You understand.”

Eliza laughed and hugged her daughter-in-law warmly.  “I’m just glad it happened,” she said.

“So am I,” Maggie said. She was going to tell Eliza that this low-key second chance already felt better than that gaudy, anxiety-fueled thing they’d been planning almost a year ago, and maybe ask why they’d been showered with quinoa, but she was drowned out by a “holy fuck” from Turpin and a cacophony of car horns. 

The five of them turned to see a train of limousines approaching slowly through the traffic, from whose windows leaned a line of familiar faces: Clark, Lois, Diana, Lena, Winn, and J’onn. A sunroof opened at the front of the convoy and a woman with a short crop of red hair emerged as her limousine pulled to a stop. 

“Very sorry for the short notice,” Kate Kane said, “but then again,” she raised an eyebrow at Maggie, “ _that_  isn’t my fault.”

“Kate?” Maggie said.

Kane ran her hand through her hair and gave a comic pout. “What? You don’t like it?” She waved them over.  “Come on, girls. I’ve reserved the West Side annex of Leontine’s.”

Maggie glanced over at Alex. “Did you?” But Alex was staring at Kara who was already backing away and holding up her hands. “I didn’t. I--really. Really.”

The three of them locked gazes and said, “Batwoman.”

“Holy fuck,” Turpin said.

“Not a circumstance,” Jaime said. Then, “she _is_?” 

 Alex laughed and took the girl’s hand as they walked into the street toward the waiting car. “It’s a secret,” she said, “but yeah, she totally is.”

Four months in, they lucked upon a three-day weekend and took Jaime to a brief getaway to Midvale. On the second night, Eliza kindly offered to distract Jaime with a few losing games of Scrabble and give the newly marrieds some private time.

Maggie went out early to walk Clyde, who zigzagged and skidded over the wet sand, elated to be out for a fourth time in one day. For Maggie, it was a first in those fast-paced, dizzying months for her to reflect. 

She’d been to hell—real hell— and back, had gotten married, was co-parenting the child she swore she would never have, and it was hard now, to discern which penance had been worse. The Underworld? Or all those blurry, miserable months without Alex? When Jaime was barely a blip on her consciousness, a distant relative from a time and place she’d so wanted to forget.

That past wasn’t giving up either. Oscar was calling her with increasing frequency. He’d given up on the custody fight and was taking an interest in his daughter again. In her work, at least. He would ring up during her lunch hour to ask how she’d traced a murderer’s car to a junkyard halfway across the country, or if she had any information about what household chemicals were being used in Rimborian meth labs. Rimborian blue had become an epidemic in Nebraska and Maggie didn’t envy her father’s job. Their conversations always began as chilly and awkward until the details of a case eased them into a volley of methods and unpursued avenues. But there was something in those terse interactions that, on more optimistic days, she might just call a start.

Maggie had stopped asking about her mother.

You had to cut your losses.

She let out a breath of air, and with it that old phantom pain, and crouched to snatch a piece of driftwood from the water. Pulling back her arm, she tossed it high into the air. Clyde barked and sped after it, spattering Maggie’s sneakers with sea water. The dog disappeared behind a large sand dune that had piled against a rock formation at the far end of the beach. As Maggie rounded the dune, she saw the dog about ten meters up ahead. She had stopped and was standing rigidly, growling at something in the darkness of the cave.

 “Clyde?” Maggie said. She jogged ahead, the sand oozing over the toes of her shoes. 

A shadow stepped in front of her.

Hades.

He was dressed down considerably, in a fleece jacket and jeans. The only part remaining of that flashy Underworld figure were the rings, which pinged as he snapped a finger at the dog.

Dogs.

Clyde had been facing down a three-headed hellhound, complete with requisite glowing eyes and fangs that looked as if they dripped venom.

Hades snapped his fingers, more forcefully this time, and the fearsome thing shrank into itself, whining and pawing at the sand as Clyde tentatively approached and began sniffing its backside.

“Get over here, Clyde!” Maggie said, her voice hoarse with fear and disbelief over the dread absurdity of what she was seeing. 

Hades glanced back at her. His manner was nonchalant. Friendly even. “It’s all right. He was just trying to protect me. He quite likes other dogs.”

Cerberus stood up and turned, tail wagging and began licking Clyde’s face with his triad of tongues. 

“I thought you had a cat,” Maggie said, hearing her voice tremble. _Stay calm,_

“My poor attempt at a joke,” Hades said.

Maggie felt her heart slow, just a little. “A three-cabbed U-Haul would have been a lot worse.” She inhaled deeply and looked the god in the eyes. “I guess I should have been ready for this.” 

“You really should have,” Hades said. 

Persephone had told her that effects might be negligible, but Maggie knew what she was doing when she wet her tongue with even the smallest drop of that pomegranate wine. She’d pushed those thoughts back into that stubborn part of herself, the same place in which she’d shoved Valentine’s Day and Alex’s eyes lingering a little too long on mothers with children. Her wife’s kneejerk reactions to happiness now made a lot more sense. They’d been too damned happy for there not to be a price. 

“So,” she said, ”does this mean I’m dead?”

Hades folded his hands and regarded her not unsympathetically. “I think we can avoid that,” he said, “but you owe me a debt, Detective Sawyer. “And not a small one.”

Maggie nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her decision hit her. Alex was back there now, gathering a blanket and a picnic basket. Maybe she’d already lit the kindling and would wait for Maggie to return. How long would it take before she realized something was wrong? 

Hades stepped back and leaned against the dune, running his fingers abstractedly through the sand. “I don’t bend the rules easily. Other than Orpheus and a few other rare exceptions, I take the arbitrariness of death very seriously. Newborn child? Sorry. Happily married charity worker? Tough luck. A hedge fund manager with thousands of ruined lives behind him can eat and cavort until he’s a hundred if that’s how it has to be. Death is the ultimate system of random 'unreward.' But…” he leaned back, his eyes briefly fixated on the spray of stars glimmering in the clear night sky, “I’ve been experiencing...blind spots.”

 _Blind spots._ Now there was one. Maggie wondered at the ludicrousness of such a statement. Gods or not, the idea of one’s time as some elevated concept that made sense when the rich, dictators, sociopaths and just plain bad luck ripped life away from innocents was just too handy of a justification. 

“You’re saying some people or souls,” the word felt uncomfortable on her tongue, “maybe shouldn’t be there after all? That’s uh, quite an insight.”

He nodded, rapidly, as if she’d helped him push out an uncomfortable truth.

Hades bent forward and rested his face in his hands, and Maggie thought she had never seen Diana or Superman, much less a god, look so tired or vulnerable. “I have a bad feeling about this, but I’ve no proof. Nothing your kind would call evidence except for an absence of information and I don’t like the idea that, in your vulgar vernacular, someone is fucking with me.”

“So where do I come in?”

Hades smiled and took a step toward her. “You impressed me, Detective. Your observation, your reasoning. I want you to come to work for me. To help me. I—”

“Wait,” Maggie held her hand out to stop him, briefly dazzled by the possibilities, the temptation he was offering: Information from beyond the grave. How many more cases could she solve? How many more vile pieces of shit could she finally bring to justice?

“You want me to help you solve murders? Don’t you usually have full knowledge of how a person has died?”

It would all be too easy. For as much as she loathed Lillian Luthor, the old broad was right about one thing. Humans needed to maintain their independence, and a large part of doing so was through an autonomous justice system. Get rid of that and they’d lose themselves, and Maggie, her sense of purpose.

“No, not like that,” Hades said. “I won’t tell you ‘whodunnit.’ _That_ would be cheating in both our worlds. I would only tell you what I don’t know and you’d help me fill in the pieces. If it’s a wrongful death,” he held up his hand, “and by wrongful I mean by Underworld rules not those of your paltry human justice systems, I will _adjust_ matters."

Maggie closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m a public employee. I don’t farm myself out and—”

“You won’t have to,” Hades said. “All I mean to do is to act as an informant, so to speak. What you do with that information is ultimately up to you.”

“And if I do nothing?”

He smiled and gestured to Cerberus whose ears cocked. The animal bounded over to Hades and the god curled his fingers into the tufts of its fur.

“I think,” he said, “you’ll find the temptation irresistible, Detective Sawyer.”

 “Maggie?”

She turned to see Alex hurrying toward her and fearing for her wife's life, stepped forward to place herself between her and the god. But he was gone already, with his rings and the dog and his footprints. Clyde was barking at the empty air. Alex gaped into the darkness as she slipped a protective arm around her. “Was that…”

“Yes,” Maggie whispered.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.” She let out a protracted breath. “He uh, didn’t seem as scary down there. Maybe it was all the adrenalin.”

Alex rubbed her back as they turned and walked hurriedly away from the darkness of the cave.

“What did he want?” 

Maggie paused, listening to the measured sound of her feet padding with sand as she formulated an answer. “He uh, wants to hire me,” she said.

“For what?”

Maggie tilted her head and kept her voice steady.  “I’m a detective, Danvers. I--”

“--detect."

 “World’s weirdest noir, but what else can we expect?” Maggie said, relieved to be able to joke so soon after that exchange. 

“And are you...” Alex asked, “going to help him?”

“I don’t know yet,” Maggie said. She felt a chill go through her again and she reached down and squeezed her wife's hand. “I just know that I won’t…Alex, he’s not taking me away from you again.”

Alex stopped and turned, shifting around to Maggie’s front. “He won’t,” she said, “or I’m coming down again to get you. And this time, Kane's gadgets won't be the half of it.  I'm sure Hades has never dealt with a Martian before, much less a Kryptonian."

Maggie laughed and the two women locked eyes for a long moment, reassuring each other until the fear dissipated and a sense of buoyancy returned. Then Alex took the front of Maggie's shirt and tugged her gently, playfully in the direction of a wind-whipped picnic blanket and a champagne bucket propped precariously next to the fire she'd built minutes before. “He’s not going to ruin one more minute of our lives,” Alex said, “although you do know you’re in the club now.”

 “The club?”

 “Kate, Kara, The Question? Now there’s Maggie Sawyer, Detective to the Gods.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Who farted, Danvers?”

 “But it’s true. You’re officially cool now.”

“Like I wasn’t before?”

Alex kneeled on the blanket and pulled Maggie down with her. She took her wife’s face in her hands, her smile fading. “You weren’t so bad.”

“No?”

“No.”

They leaned into each other, Maggie tugging Alex’s jacket off while above millions of bright stars carpeted the sky. One shone more intensely, although both women were far too preoccupied to notice.

#

 In the childhood bedroom of Kara and Alex Danvers, Jaime Sawyer rubbed her eyes and shuffled off the heavy blue covers. She’d had another dream about the forest. She was standing in a creek, the water rippling around her ankles as she tried to make her way across an algae-covered creek bottom. The creek was shallow, but the current pushed forcefully against her, and she held out her arms as she took another step. That's when she'd see them. And she would always see them in these dreams, a formation of water skippers, moving over the surface like fighter planes in some old war movie. They were moving upstream, their sticklike bodies emitting chirps and clicks that sounded almost like words.

Almost like a call for help.

She opened her eyes and glanced over at the small bed her parents shared. It was empty and undisturbed and Jaime smiled, knowing that they were likely out enjoying themselves, which usually meant some form of guilty compensation—an extra scoop of ice cream or tickets to the National City Capes.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something flickering. Her good luck charm was acting up. Again. It was quite a temperamental thing and she’d even stopped taking it to school because once it had let out a piercing hum and Ms. Knickey-—despite being unable to find it after a long and thorough bag search—gave her detention for bringing a smartphone.

“You again,” Jaime said. She padded over to the window ledge and picked it up. It was warm in her hands, like a bird she’d once rescued and taken to the vet back in Halterville. 

The thing hummed in her palm.

“You want me to go out there?” Jaime said, nodding toward the balcony. “Not sure if I’m allowed.” She felt another tickle, almost a protest and sighed, walking over to the door and unlatching it. “If I get in trouble, it’s your fault.”

As she stepped outside, the object lit up like a sunlamp. Jaime squinted, cupping it in both hands and squeezing tightly against the sharp beams of light splitting between her fingers. It was vibrating steadily in her hand now, numbing her fingers. She held on tightly for a few more seconds and finally gave up, her hands opening to reveal another constellation on its surface.

Orion. At whose shoulder, below the raised club, was a dazzling cascade of light.

"Is..." But there was no need for another question. Slowly, Jaime raised her eyes to the night sky.

Alex had pointed out the red star Betelgeuse in National City. It was one of the easiest stars to spot even in the worst kind of light pollution, but Jaime had humored her, enjoying the view, looking up in awe at that dim red orb nearly 625 light years away and asking her mother questions. She might have been programmed with knowledge of the stars, but Alex, Alex had been out there. Had gone through portals to stop slavery cartels and had almost traveled to the other side of the galaxy.

That dim red orb wasn’t dim anymore.

It was a white-hot sunflower.

Jaime looked down at the orb cradled in her hand and nodded in understanding.

 “So, you _were_ asking for help.”

 


End file.
